THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


/&  c 


X 


Old  Dugald,  the  blind  harper.  p.  U. 


HELEN  MACGREGOR; 


OR, 


CONQUEST  AND  SACRIFICE. 


BY 

MRS.    C.   Y.   BARLOW. 


PHILADELPHIA : 
J.    C.    GARRIGUES    &    CO., 

No.  148  SOUTH  FOURTH  STREET. 

1805. 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865,  by 

J.  C.  GARRIQUES  &  CO., 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Eastern  District  of 
Pennsylvania. 


Jas.  B.  Kodgera,  Pr. 
52  *  54  X.  6th  St. 


ps 


CONTENTS. 


i. 

THE  HIGHLAND  HOME 


II. 

THE  LOAN 21 

III. 

THE  VOYAGE. 37 

IV. 

THE  ARRIVAL 49 

V. 
DARK  HOURS ..    W 


4  CONTENTS. 

VI. 

A  NEW  HOME 78 

VII. 
THE  DOBCAS  SOCIETY. 95 

VIII. 

THE  DAY  OP  REST Ill 

IX. 

THE  BROKEN  PITCHER 127 

X. 

REPENTANCE 139 

XI. 

BARBARA'S  CONFESSION. 154 

XII. 

MK.  NELSON'S  FARM ...  165 


CONTENTS.  5 

XIII. 
HELEN  AT  OAKDALE 183 

XIV. 

THE  TEA  PARTY 196 

XV. 

SELF-SACRIFICE 212 

XVI. 

THE  REQUEST 228 

XVII. 
THE  LITTLE  SCHOOL 243 

XVIII. 

WINTER 255 

XIX. 

ANOTHER  HOME 265 

1  * 


6  CONTENTS. 

XX. 

AN  ARRIVAL. 281 

XXI. 

THE  DECISION 291 

XXII. 

DOMESTIC  LIFE 305 

XXIII. 
HAPPY  DAYS 316 

XXIV. 

CONCLUSION ...  326 


HELEN  MAC&REGOR. 


i. 

THE  HIGSLAJTJ)   HOME. 

"All  twinkling  with  the  dew-drop's  sheen 
The  brier-rose  fell  in  streamers  green, 
And  creeping  shrubs,  of  thousand  dyes, 
Waved  in  the  west  wind's  summer  sighs. 
Boon  nature  scattered  free  and  wild 
Each  plant  or  flower,  the  mountain's  child." 

niJNLIGHT,  the  glorious  sunlight  of  a  summer 
1^  morning  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  was 
glinting  with  its  early  splendor  the  mountain  tops, 
but  had  not  yet  reached  the  dark  moor,  the  loch,  nor 
the  deep  vale  of  the  Scraggan  Glen.  On  the  edge 
of  the  wild  moor  stood  a  solitary  cottage,  or  rather 
hut,  built  of  turf.  Everything  around  it  looked 
neglected,  and  it  lacked  that  air  of  neatness  which 
usually  distinguishes  the  Scottish  farm  house. 


8  HELEN   MACGKEtEGOR;    OR, 

There  was  some  attempt  at  a  rude  garden,  which 
had  been  won  from  the  waste  around,  but  the  en 
closure  was  broken,  and  a  small  Highland  cow 
was  walking  through  it,  and  making  herself  per 
fectly  at  home  by  eating  whatever  took  her  fancy. 
A  rough  bench,  on  which  were  some  fishing-rods, 
stood  outside  of  the  door,  and  some  dozen  dogs  lay 
in  different  directions,  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
hut. 

This  poor  dwelling,  with  its  squalid  poverty,  con 
trasted  ill  with  the  beauty  of  the  scene  around  it. 
Through  the  sweet  freshness  of  the  early  morning 
the  eye  looked  to  the  dark  back-ground  of  the 
mountains,  clothed  to  the  very  summits  with  the 
sturdy  oak  and  lofty  pine,  near  whose  gnarled 
roots 

"  The  primrose  pale,  and  violet  flower, 
Found  in  each  cliff  a  narrow  bower;" 

to  the  moor,  covered  with  the  wild  heath  flower, 
on  whose  every  bell  hung  the  dew  tears  of  morn 
waiting  the  warm  kiss  of  the  sun ;  to  the  loch  in 
its  calm  beauty;  to  the  little  cataract,  "that  laugh 
of  the  mountain,"  with  its  noisy  babble ;  while  the 
ear  drank  in  the  thrilling  notes  of  the  forest  song 
sters.  It  was  a  lovely  spot,  such  as  a  hermit 


CONQUEST    A-TiTD    SACRIFICE.  » 

might  choose,  to  "look  through  nature  up  to  na 
ture's  God." 

The  door  of  the  hut  opened,  and  a  young  girl 
came  out.  Bounding  with  light  step  to  where  the 
little  mountain  stream  made  its  last  jump  for  the 
valley,  she  stooped  and  bathed  her  face  in  the  stone 
basin  which  caught  its  waters.  Then  dipping 
in  her  long  dark  hair,  she  sat  down  on  the  grass, 
and  soon  twisted  it  into  curls,  which  she  bound 
with  a  scarlet  ribbon.  This  scarlet  snood  was 
Helen's  only  ornament,  and  she  prized  it  highly. 
Her  father  returning  once  from  a  distant  parish 
had,  in  an  unusual  fit  of  liberality,  bought  it  for 
her.  She  immediately  threw  away  the  old  faded 
blue,  and,  notwithstanding  Margaret's  scolding, 
continued  to  wear  it  altogether,  laughingly  declar 
ing  that  when  that  was  gone  her  father  would 
buy  her  another.  Her  simple  toilet  finished, 
Helen  sank  back  in  the  heather,  unmindful  of 
dew,  and  gave  herself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  the 
hour.  Passionately  she  loved  all  nature,  true 
mountain  child  that  she  was.  The  bird,  the  bee, 
and  the  flower  were  her  sole  playmates,  and  many 
an  hour  of  precious  time  did  Helen  lose  in  vague 
dreaming. 


10  HELEN   MACGKREGOR;    OR,, 

The  sun  peeped  into  the  Scraggan  Glen,  and 
lighted  up  the  old  hut  into  a  sort  of  wild  beauty, 
but  all  unmindful  of  his  burning  presence,  the  girl 
still  reclined,  with  her  elbow  on  the  ground,  and 
her  head  on  her  hand. 

"Helen!  Helen!"  called  a  sharp  voice,  and  a 
little  wrinkled  old  woman,  dressed  in  a  blue  skirt 
and  short  gown,  came  out  of  the  hut,  and  shading 
her  eyes  from  the  sun  with  her  hand,  looked  round 
for  the  missing  child. 

Helen  rose  slowly,  and  walked  leisurely  towards 
her.  "What  is  it,  Margie?  Here  I  am." 

"What  is  it,  Margie?  Did  any  one  ever  see 
such  a  daft  bairn?  Is  there  nothing  to  do,  do  ye 
think,  of  a  wash  day,  but  to  be  learning  a  sang  of 
the  cuckoo,  or  laying  ye're  thriftless  length  in  the 
heather?  Ye  don't  earn  your  salt." 

"And  why  should  I  earn  my  salt?"  asked 
Helen,  with  a  gay  laugh.  "Now,  Margaret,  have 
not  you  told  me,  hundreds  of  times,  that  I  was  the 
daughter  of  a  MacGregor,  and  that  the  MacGregors 
were  born  ladies  and  gentlemen?  And  now  you 
ask  me  to  work!  I'm  astonished  at  you,  Marga 
ret!" 

Fun  danced  in  Helen's  eyes,  as  with  a  very  long 


CONQTJTGST    A.TXT)    SACRIFICE.  11 

face  she  made  this  speech,  and  then  turned  to  play 
with  the  dogs. 

This  saucy  reply,  so  far  from  vexing  the  old 
woman,  seemed  to  afford  her  an  immense  amount 
of  pleasure.  She  went  into  the  hut,  chuckling  to 
herself,  and  repeating,  "Oh,  she's  the  canny  one, 
she  has  the  real  old  bluid,  the  real  old  bluid," 
and  the  thoughts  thus  occasioned  made  her  old 
face  smile  for  the  next  half  hour,  as  memory  re 
called  the  days  of  her  youth,  when  a  bright  Scotch 
lassie,  she  had  waited  on  Helen's  grandmother,  and 
carried  Helen's  mother  in  her  arms,  in  the  grand 
days  of  the  MacGregors.  And  so  it  happened 
now,  that  the  saucier  Helen  was,  and  the  more  au 
thority  she  assumed,  the  better  it  pleased  the  faith 
ful  old  servant,  who  fondly  saw  in  it  a  remnant  of 
the  ancient  aristocratic  spirit,  showing  itself  in  the 
midst  of  poverty.  She  was  used  to  her  young 
mistress's  moods.  It  did  not  therefore  surprise  her 
when,  upon  coming  out  with  the  tubs,  she  saw 
Helen  unfasten  her  gay  plaid,  and  merrily  help  to 
carry  the  clothes  down  to  the  loch.  Margaret 
hated  new  styles  and  customs,  and  thought  what 
ever  was  oldest  was  always  best.  Therefore  put 
ting  some  clothes  in  a  tub,  and  pouring  fresh  water 


12  HKTL.EN   M.A.CGHtEGKm  ;   OR, 


on  them  from  the  loch,  she  motioned  to  Helen 
who  with  a  meny  bound  jumped  in,  and  com 
menced  treading  the  clothes  with  her  bare  feet. 
She  danced  about,  and  splashed  the  water  in  her 
very  face,  and  not  a  little  fell  to  Margaret's  share, 
who  was  industriously  tramping  in  another  tub. 
But  the  higher  the  water  splashed,  the  louder 
rang  Helen's  clear  laugh,  till  old  Ben  None  caught 
up  the  echo,  and  repeated  the  rippling  notes,  far 
off  among  the  hills. 

But  old  Margaret,  who  the  better  pleased  she 
was,  the  more  she  grumbled,  muttered  crossly, 

"Ye're  as  crazy  as  a  loon." 

"Ah,  well,  Margie,  no  loon  to-day  is  as  happy 
as  Helen  MacGregor." 

"Happy!"  exclaimed  the  old  woman,  treading 
more  vigorously,  "little  happiness  contents  ye,  if 
ye  find  it  here." 

"A  little!"  said  the  girl,  throwing  off  the  water 
from  her  dark  hair,  while  the  drops  hung  like 
tears  from  her  eyelashes,  and  deepened  the  crimson 
on  her  cheek.  "A  little!  why,  what  Highland 
lassie  climbs  our  mountains  with  as  free  a  step  as 
I?  I  can  find  the  brightest  heather  bells,  and  the 
deadliest  night-shade,  and  each  streamlet's  greenest 


CONQUEST   AND   SACRIFICE.  13 

water-cresses,  f  know  the  witches'  cave,  and  the 
haunted  hollow,  where  the  fairies  sing.  Happy !" 
she  continued,  with  a  gay  laugh,  "why  I'm  happy 
treading  these  clothes,  happy  when  I  wait  on  surly 
brother  Malcom,  happy  here,  now,  and  every 
where.  Oh,  the  world  is  full  of  pleasure!" 

Margaret  looked  at  her  curiously,  and  half  en 
vious  of  the  youth  and  joy  she  saw  in  that  glow 
ing  face,  she  said,  "Ah,  weel,  weel,  ye  always  was 
a  strange  bairn.  Hand  out  the  clothes.  Ye're 
born,  but  ye're  ne'er  buried,  and  there's  mony  a 
lang  path  with  no  light  to  it." 

"No  matter,  Margie,  I'm  not  the  lassie  to 
beckon  a  sorrow  that  may  never  come." 

"It  will  come.  It  will  come,"  was  the  reply. 
"I've  seen  the  ruined  hearth-stone,  once  the  hame 
of  the  MacGregor,  on  which  rests  the  stranger's 
foot.  I've  heard  the  Ban  Schie  wail  for  the  last 
chieftain,  and  I  see  the  lone  hut  in  the  Scraggan 
Glen,  where  my  poor  bairn  is  growing  up  like 
the  wild  roe  of  the  mountain,  untaught,  unloved. 
Ah,  woe  to  the  ending!" 

"  Margaret,  it  is  enough,"  answered  Helen,  and 
the  tears  for  a  moment  moistened  her  eyes,  "when 
sorrow  really  comes,  the  daughter  of  the  Gael  must 

2 


14  HELEN   MACGHtKOOR;   OR, 

learn  to  bind  her  plaid  o'er  a  brof  en  heart,  with 
out  a  murmur." 

She  stood  a  moment  in  thought,  then  shaking 
her  head,  she  recommenced  in  a  gay  tone,  "but, 
Margaret,  why  will  you  recall  the  past,  and  sigh 
over  the  uncertain  future?  You  cast  the  gloam 
ing  over  the  beauty  of  this  sunshine.  You  tire 
me.  You  vex  me.  I  will  not  be  sad.  Good  luck 
ever  attends  the  brave  and  loving,  and  no  wicked 
fairy  shall  have  the  power  to  mar  the  bright  future 
of  a  true  daughter  of  Scotland's  mountains.  See 
yonder  on  the  rocks  is  old  blind  Dugald,  the  min 
strel.  Good-bye,  then;  I  seek  more  cheerful  com 
pany." 

And  Helen,  wrapping  her  plaid  around  her  once 
more,  sprang  lightly  up  the  rocky  pathway. 

No  word  had  passed  her  lips,  of  faith  in  the 
over-ruling  providence  of  God.  None,  of  his  gra 
cious  promises  to  those  in  trouble  or  affliction. 
Good  and  bad  luck,  and  good  and  bad  influences 
and  omens,  were  the  only  religion  in  which  Helen 
believed.  Her  lather  never  went  to  the  kirk,  nor 
ever  troubled  himself  about  his  soul's  salvation, 
and  as  the  nearest  parish  was  some  miles  distant, 
and  Helen  had  never  been  taught  to  go,  she  staid 


CONQUEST    A^NT>    SACRIFICE.  15 


away  also.  Thus  in  a  country  abounding  in  gos 
pel  privileges,  Helen  was  growing  up  as  wild,  un 
tutored,  and  careless,  as  her  own  mountain  flowers. 
The  superstitious  tales  of  an  old  woman,  mixed 
with  her  own  wild  fancies,  were  her  chief  mental 
food.  True,  the  minister  did  leave  his  comfortable 
manse,  and  walk  the  bleak  moor  as  often  as  pos 
sible  to  the  solitary  cottage,  for  the  good  of  its  in 
mates,  but  he  seldom  saw  Helen,  for  she  was 
nearly  always  away  on  some  wild  expedition  of 
her  own,  and  the  reception  he  met  with  from  Don 
ald  MacGregor,  was  such,  that  he  was  loath  to 
repeat  his  unwelcome  visit.  So  Helen  drank  in 
the  beauty  and  life  around  her,  without  one  grate 
ful  thought  of  the  bountiful  Giver. 

"Good  morning,  Dugald,"  she  said,  seating  her 
self  beside  him,  "  I  have  come  to  hear  the  saddest, 
weirdest  song  ye  know." 

The  old  man  touched  the  harp  that  lay  beside 
him,  and  brought  forth  a  few  sad  notes,  then  stop 
ping  suddenly,  he  asked, 

"What  shadow  rests  on  the  mountain's  pride 
to-day,  that  her  voice  is  sad?" 

"Margaret  has  been  scolding  and  worrying." 

The  old  man  shook  his  head,  and  with  a  smile 


16  HELEN   MACQ-REQOR;   OR, 

replied,  "Well  does  Dugald  Stuart  know,  that 
when  Margaret  scolds,  Helen  laughs.  But  it  is 
wrong  to  cast  the  saddened  visions  of  age  over  the 
bright  dreams  of  youth.  Who  expects  yonder  tiny 
cataract,  babbling  and  leaping  in  the  morning  sun 
light,  to  rest  calm  and  placid  as  the  loch,  sleeping 
in  the  deep  shadow  of  the  mountain?" 

Helen  was  indolently  reclining  on  the  rock, 
waiting  for  the  song,  but  seeing  the  old  man  lost 
in  a  reverie,  after  his  last  words,  she  sat  up,  and 
taking  the  harp,  struck  a  few  notes,  and  then  in  a 
clear,  ringing  voice,  commenced  singing  an  ancient 
war-song. 

The  old  man,  roused  from  his  musing  by  her 
wild  song,  listened  with  pleased  attention.  Helen, 
with  her  love  for  music,  her  sweet  voice,  and  her 
buoyant  spirits,  had  won  years  ago  her  way  to  the  old 
minstrel's  heart.  He  was  a  lonely  man.  Afflicted 
from  childhood  with  blindness,  he  made  a  scanty 
living  by  wandering  about,  playing  on  his  harp. 
Helen  never  had  anything  to  give,  yet  Dugald  had 
taught  her  to  play  almost  as  well  as  he  could;  and 
the  remembrance  of  Helen's  merry  laugh,  and 
joyful  welcome,  often  turned  his  footsteps  towards 
the  Scraggan  Glen,  where  indeed  he  was  treated  as 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  17 

an  honored  guest;  for  Helen  ever  longed  to  hear 
his  sweet  music,  and  heroic  songs,  and  Margaret 
was  ready  to  lend  an  ear  to  any  gossip  that  might 
be  afloat  in  the  distant  parishes. 

As  Helen  sang,  another  listener  was  added  to 
her  audience.  Emerging  from  behind  a  projecting 
rock,  some  distance  above,  a  gentleman  seated  him 
self,  and  looked  down  upon  the  scene  below.  He 
had  an  artist's  eye  for  the  picturesque,  and  the 
sight  which  burst  upon  his  view  charmed  him  into 
silence.  The  beautiful  loch,  bordered  by  blooming 
heather,  the  old  hut  looking  red  and  warm  in  the 
sunlight,  the  still  dark  glen  stretching  far  away, 
sleeping  in  the  shadows  of  the  majestic  trees — on 
the  rock  below  him  the  old  man  with  his  head 
thrown  back  in  a  listening  attitude,  and  his  white 
hair  streaming  in  the  wind,  the  young  girl  by  his 
side,  her  plaid  thrown  carelessly  on  one  shoulder, 
her  hand  resting  on  the  harp,  her  eyes  sparkling 
with  enthusiasm,  and  her  beaming  face  answering 
to  the  joy-notes  of  her  musical  soul, — all  joined  to 
form  a  picture  that  would  have  attracted  even  an 
indifferent  observer.  The  song  again  commenced. 
This  time  it  was  a  coronach,  or  ancient  Highland 

7  O 

dirge,  on  the  death  of  a  chieftain. 
2*  B 


18  HI^X-jEN"    HVLA-CQ-REGl-OR,;    OR,, 


CORONACH. 

"  He  is  gone  on  the  mountain, 

He  is  lost  to  the  forest, 
Like  a  summer-dried  fountain, 

When  our  need  was  the  sorest. 
The  font,  reappearing, 

From  the  rain-drops  shall  borrow, 
But  to  us  comes  no  cheering, 

To  Duncan  no  morrow  ! 

"  The  hand  of  the  reaper 

Takes  the  ears  that  are  hoary, 
But  the  voice  of  the  weeper 

Wails  manhood  in  glory. 
The  autumn  winds  rushing 

Waft  the  leaves  that  are  searest, 
But  our  flower  was  in  flushing, 

When  blighting  was  nearest. 

"  Fleet  foot  on  the  correi, 

Sage  counsel  in  cumber, 
Bed  hand  in  the  foray, 

How  sound  is  thy  slumber  ! 
Like  the  dew  on  the  mountain, 

Like  the  foam  on  the  river, 
Like  the  bubble  on  the  fountain, 

Thou  art  gone,  and  forever  I" 

The  song  ended  with  wild  thrilling  sweetness, 
and  the  stranger  came  down  the  narrow  pathway, 
and  advanced  to  where  they  were  sitting.  Dugald 
instantly  touched  Helen's  hand,  saying,  — 


CONQUEST   AND    SACRIFICE.  19 

"A  strange  step,  my  lassie,"  and  turned  his 
sightless  eye-balls  towards  the  stranger. 

Helen  glanced  hastily  up,  and  judging  the  gen 
tleman  from  his  dress  to  be  a  clergyman,  she  rose 
and  courtesied.  The  clergyman,  for  such  he  really 
was,  after  wishing  them  good  morning,  sat  down 
on  the  rock,  and  entered  into  conversation,  with 
the  ease  of  a  polished  gentleman.  There  was 
something  in  the  pleasant  tones  of  his  voice,  that 
won  the  ear  of  the  blind  minstrel,  and  he  soon 
found  himself  in  an  earnest  dissertation  on  ancient 
poetry  and  song.  Helen  had  been  brought  up  in 
too  free  and  careless  a  manner  to  dread  the  pres 
ence  of  a  stranger;  indeed  she  rather  hailed  his 
arrival  with  delight,  as  a  pleasant  variety  to  the 
monotony  of  her  existence.  Besides,  Helen,  with 
the  quick  instinct  of  a  child,  noticed  that  all  his 
conversation  bespoke  a  deep  reverence  for  religion, 
which  she  admired  but  had  never  been  taught  to 
imitate.  And  there  was  something  in  the  bright 
blue  eye,  and  kind]y  smile,  which  would  have  won 
a  confidence  harder  to  gain  than  Helen's.  As  it 
was  she  sang  for  him  song  after  song,  and  listened 
with  pleased  attention  to  his  instructive  discourse. 

Thus  the  sun  reached  the  mark  of  high  noon, 


20  HELEN" 

ere  the  group  on  the  rock  were  aware  of  it,  and 
Margaret's  shrill  tones  were  heard,  summoning 
Helen  and  Dugald  to  dinner. 

The  stranger,  having  walked  many  miles  in 
the  bracing  mountain  air,  was  not  loath  to  accept 
Helen's  cordial  invitation  to  share  their  noon-day 
meal.  So  he  followed  the  light  springy  step  of  the 
girl  down  the  steep  mountain  path,  with  a  little 
more  caution,  but  with  equal  readiness. 


II. 

THE 


"The  sounds  of  thy  streams  in  my  spirit  I  bear  — 

Farewell  !  and  a  blessing  be  with  thee,  green  land  ! 
On  thy  hearths,  on  thy  halls,  on  thy  pure  mountain  air, 
On  the  chords  of  the  harp,  and  the  minstrel's  free  hand  !" 

AS  the  clergyman  entered  the  hut,  preceded  by 
Dugald  and  Helen,  he  took  in  at  a  rapid 
glance  the  scene  before  him.  The  small  room  was 
furnished  in  the  simplest  manner.  A  few  wooden 
chairs  were  to  be  seen,  and  a  wooden  table.  On 
one  side  was  a  rude  kind  of  closet  without  a  door, 
and  in  the  closet  stood  a  few  rough  dishes;  oppo 
site  to  that  the  wall  was  ornamented  with  the  ant 
lers  of  a  huge  deer,  supporting  a  long  fowling- 
piece.  The  table  was  spread  with  a  snowy  cloth, 
and  Margaret  was  bending  over  the  fire,  taking  up 
some  fish,  which  emitted  a  very  savory  odor.  In 
one  corner  sat  a  tall,  dark  man,  whose  haughty  fea 
tures  showed  too  plainly  the  ravages  of  time,  and 

21 


22  HELEN   MA.CO-REOOR;    OR, 

of  uncontrolled  passions.  Towards  him  Helen 
advanced,  saying, 

"  My  father !  a  stranger  waits." 

Donald  MacGregor  instantly  rose,  and  the 
clergyman  was  not  a  little  astonished  at  the  stately 
politeness  with  which  he  was  received.  He  judged 
at  once,  that  the  man  before  him  had  not  always 
lived  in  that  rude  style.  He  saw  with  sorrow  the 
traces  sin  had  left  on  that  otherwise  noble  face ; 
and  he  felt  that,  if  affliction  had  fallen  to  his  lot, 
it  had  not  been  met  with  the  submissive  spirit  of 
the  Christian,  but  had  been  repelled  by  his  native 
pride,  as  an  unjust  punishment,  and  had  fallen  as 
a  fatal  shadow  over  the  life  before  him. 

And  all  this  was  too  true.  Donald  MacGregor, 
born  to  an  ancient  patrimony,  and  a  high  name, 
had  been  cheated  of  the  former  by  the  dishonesty 
of  a  relative,  whom  he  loved  as  a  brother ;  and 
from  that  day,  with  a  cynical  indifference,  he 
buried  in  obscurity  the  name  and  the  talents,  of 
which  he  had  once  been  so  proud.  He  came  to 
live  in  this  lonely  cottage,  in  the  wild  Scraggan 
Glen,  followed  by  the  faithful  Margaret,  who 
would  never  forsake  the  children,  Malcom  and 
Helen,  whose  mother  had  been  dead  several  years. 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  23 

Here,  in  this  solitary  spot,  Donald  gave  him 
self  up  to  idleness  and  bitter  musings.  Day  after 
day  he  studied  revenge,  and  cherished  rebellious 
thoughts.  The  relative  who  had  wronged  him 
was  a  clergyman,  and  at  once,  with  the  sweeping 
accusation  of  the  headstrong,  he  denounced  all  re 
ligion  as  foolishness,  and  all  ministers  as  hypo 
crites;  forgetting,  as  some  writer  remarks,  that 
one  of  the  greatest  proofs  of  the  worth  of  religion, 
is  that  rogues  are  anxious  to  wear  its  livery,  the 
better  to  conceal  their  purposes,  well  knowing  that 
the  name  of  Christian  places  its  possessor  above 
suspicion. 

The  stranger  introduced  himself  as  the  Rev. 
Clement  Ashton ;  and  it  required  all  of  Donald's 
politeness  to  enable  him  to  give  a  welcome,  to  an 
swer  the  demands  of  Highland  hospitality.  But 
whatever  his  feelings  were,  there  was  nothing  in 
his  behaviour  to  indicate  that  his  guest  was  not  to 
his  liking. 

The  simple  meal  was  ready.  It  consisted  of  a 
plate  of  fish,  a  dish  of  potatoes,  some  oaten  cakes, 
and  a  pitcher  of  milk.  But,  ere  it  was  partaken 
of,  Mr.  Ashton,  with  a  slight  bow  towards  his  host, 
raised  his  hand,  and  asked  the  blessing  of  God 


24  HELEN   MA-CGKREGOR;   OR, 

upon  the  meal  before  them.  He  well  knew,  from 
the  conversation  he  had  held  with  Helen,  that  the 
Lord  was  unhonored,  and  His  name  an  unwel 
come  sound  in  that  household ;  but  Mr.  Ashton 
had  learned  the  command  of  His  Divine  Master, 
to  let  his  light  shine  before  men.  Aye,  the  deeper 
the  darkness,  the  more  need,  he  felt,  there  was  for 
the  redeeming  light  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness. 
So  ignoring  the  fact  that  Donald  would  not  talk 
upon  religious  subjects,  he  skillfully  turned  each 
topic  towards  the  one  great  duty  of  life,  which  al 
ways  silenced  MacGregor  until  that  subject  was 
exhausted  and  a  new  one  was  introduced. 

Donald  was  heartily  glad  when  the  dinner  was 
over,  and  making  a  graceful  apology  to  his  guest, 
took  his  gun  from  the  wall,  and  disappeared. 
Old  Dugald,  the  minstrel,  went  next.  Margaret 
commenced  clearing  the  table,  and  Mr.  Ashton 
proposed  that  Helen  should  accompany  him  part 
of  the  way  on  his  homeward  track.  She  joyfully 
assented.  Wandering  over  mount  and  moor  was 
her  chief  delight.  Mr.  Ashton  had  asked  for 
this  walk,  that  he  might  talk  to  the  young  girl 
of  the  dear  Saviour.  He  never  expected  to  see 
her  again,  and  he  longed  even  in  that  brief  time  to 


CONQUEST   A.ND   SACRIFICE.  25 

speak  a  few  words,  that  might,  through  God's 
grace,  make  a  lasting  impression. 

They  had  wandered  on  for  some  time  in  silence, 
Mr.  Ashton  drinking  in  the  beauty  of  the  scene 
around  him,  and  pondering  how  best  to  open  the 
subject ;  while  Helen  ran  lightly  from  one  object  to 
another.  At  length  they  came  to  a  wild  hollow, 
densely  shaded  by  birch  and  oak,  in  which  twi 
light  still  lingered,  although  it  was  high  noon. 
Mr.  Ashton  gazed  at  the  dewy  freshness  and  wild 
beauty  of  the  dell,  as  it  contrasted  with  the  glare 
of  sunshine  above,  and  was  about  proposing  to 
Helen  that  they  should  descend  into  it,  when  the 
girl  stopped,  and  seating  herself  in  the  shadow  of 
a  tree,  said  smilingly, 

"I  can  go  no  further.  Yonder  dell  is  the 
home  of  the  shaggy  men ;  you  must  not  cross  it ; 
your  path  lies  up  this  steep  mountain ;  the  way  is 
long." 

"Why  should  I  not  go  through  the  dell?" 
asked  the  clergyman,  "  I  see  no  men  there." 

Helen  gave  a  gay  laugh,  as  she  answered,  "  You 
may  look  long  ere  you  see  them,  but  they  are  ever 
there.  Dinna  ye  ken  that  brownies  and  fairies  are 

hard  to  see?     You  can  win  the  shaggy  men  by 
3 


26  HELEN   MA-CGKREGOR,;    OR, 

kindness  sometimes,  but  ye  must  not  enter  their 
homes." 

"Ah,"  said  Mr.  Ashton,  "you  have  nothing  to 
fear  from  such  folks." 

"Fear!"  said  the  girl,  contemptuously,  "I  am  a 
daughter  of  the  Gael;  I  never  fear.  Besides,  the 
canny  people  ne'er  yet  hurt  a  harmless  lassie." 

"You  misunderstood  me.  I  meant  there  was 
nothing  to  fear  from  such  people,  because  they  do 
not  exist;  there  are  no  brownies  and  shaggy  men." 

Helen  opened  to  their  widest  extent  her  great 
brown  eyes,  and  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 
Brought  up,  and  taught  what  little  she  knew,  by 
the  ignorant  and  superstitious  old  Highland  woman, 
Margaret,  at  the  tenderest  age  she  had  been  fright 
ened  into  obedience  by  the  positive  assurance,  that 
one  of  the  shaggy  men  was  even  then  outside  the 
door  waiting  to  take  her.  When  she  was  a  little 
older,  Margie  took  delight  in  showing  her  all  the 
dark  mysterious  passages  and  caves  around  her  wild 
home,  and  in  filling  her  childish  mind  with  le 
gends  and  superstitions,  living  now  only  in  the 
memories  of  the  old.  Helen's  mind  was  clear  and 
sharp  beyond  her  years.  Her  imagination  loved 
to  revel  in  the  ideal  and  beautiful,  as  well  as  the 


CONQUEST   AND   SA-CRIITICE.  27 

fantastic  and  grotesque.  Some  of  these  marvellous 
tales  she  neglected,  as  too  improbable.  But  those 
she  liked  best  she  retained,  to  add  a  kind  of  fright 
ful  charm  to  her  lonely  walks.  And  she  so  peo 
pled  the  mountains  around  her  with  the  bright 
creations  of  her  own  fancy,  tinged  by  Margaret's 
superstitious  tales,  that  she  sometimes  really  imag 
ined  she  saw  forms  deep  in  some  dark  cave  or  cleft 
in  the  rock,  and  then  starting  away,  she  would 
reach  home  so  breathless  and  excited,  that  she 
would  be  greeted  by  Margie's  exclamation,  "Did 
ye  see  the  Ban  Schie?"  meaning  an  old  woman  in 
a  long  blue  mantle,  who,  she  believed,  appeared  to 
foretell  the  death  of  some  distinguished  person. 
But  Helen,  naturally  courageous,  would  never  ad 
mit  that  she  had  been  frightened;  and  indeed  this 
seldom  occurred.  She  had  learned  to  love  these 
fairy  imaginings,  and  to  feel  a  tender  interest  in 
these  children  of  her  fancy.  She  never  plucked  a 
flower  from  the  fairy  grotto,  although  the  flowers 
there  were  most  beautiful.  She  trod  with  the 
lightest,  and  most  careful  step  over  their  dancing 
ground,  until  she  persuaded  herself,  as  they  must 
know  all  this,  that  they  must  have  learned  to  love 
her.  Indeed  these  fairy  spirits,  and  her  father's 


28  HELEN    MLA-CGKREGKXR;    OR, 

dogs,  were  Helen's  sole  companions.  No  wonder 
then  that  she  looked  astonished  at  any  one  doubt 
ing  the  existence  of  creatures  that  seemed  living 
realities  to  her.  She  dropped  her  eyes,  and  shook 
her  head,  with  a  bright  smile  at  Mr.  Ashton's  re 
mark,  as  much  as  to  say,  "How  foolish  you  are!" 

The  clergyman  waited  a  while,  then  asked, — 

"Have  you  ever  seen  any  of  these  little  shaggy 
men?" 

"Oh,  yes,  often." 

It  was  now  Mr.  Ashton's  turn  to  smile.  Helen 
looked  up  and  caught  the  expression. 

"Well,  well,  you  do  not  believe  it.  Come  here 
at  the  gloaming,  and  sit  on  yonder  rock  until 
night  has  clothed  the  mountain,  and  you  will 
doubt  no  more." 

Mr.  Ashton  did  not  answer  at  once.  He  was 
thinking  how  he  could  best  convince  the  child 
that  she  was  wrong.  He  felt  that  merely  contra 
dicting  her  would  do  no  good.  He  glanced 
thoughtfully  at  the  animated  face  and  speaking 
eyes,  and  sighed  to  think,  "She  knows  nothing  of 
the  lovely  Redeemer:  nothing  of  the  bright  home 
he  has  gone  to  prepare.  How  my  Miriam  would 
love  this  girl,  and  instruct  her.  What  would  she 


CO1STQTJEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  29 

say,  if  I  should  bring  her  back  with  me,  a 
daughter?" 

Helen  looked,  and  wondered  at  his  silence,  but 
presently  she  ventured  to  interrupt  it. 

"Will  you  try  it,  sir?" 

"Will  you  come  with  me?"  he  asked. 

"Ah,  that  would  break  the  charm;  you  must 
bide  alone.  And  I  would  not  come,  in  any  case ; 
he  who  gets  the  ill  will  of  the  fairies,  has  sair 
luck." 

"The  entrance  of  Thy  words  giveth  light." 
This  text  floated  through  Mr.  Ashton's  mind. 
"Yes,"  he  thought,  "I  will  tell  her  the  simple 
story  of  the  cross.  I  will  try  to  lead  her  young 
mind  to  believe  in  the  all-sufficient  power  of  that 
God,  who  alone  holds  the  universe,  and  measures 
out  the  evil  and  the  good." 

He  commenced  with  the  garden  of  Eden,  the 
happiness  and  the  fall  witnessed  amid  its  bloom 
ing  shades.  He  told  the  perfect  life  of  the  Re 
deemer,  the  full  pardon  through  his  shed  blood, 
and  the  glorious  hope  held  out  for  all.  Helen 
listened  eagerly.  To  her  it  was  but  another  fairy 
tale,  more  wonderful,  more  touching  and  beautiful 
than  the  legends  of  her  own  wild  land,  but  still 

3  * 


80  HELEN   MA-CGKREGtOR;   OR, 

only  a  story  after  all.  Then,  with  simple  earnest 
ness,  he  tried  to  make  her  feel,  that  that  Saviour 
died  for  her ;  that  she  must  be  washed  in  that  par 
doning  blood  ere  she  could  go  to  dwell  in  heaven. 
Helen  was  deeply  touched ;  tears  stood  in  her  dark 
eyes ;  and  Mr.  Ashton  lifted  up  his  heart  in  a  si 
lent  prayer,  that  the  seed  might  fall  into  good 
ground.  How  different  would  his  feelings  have 
been,  could  he  have  looked  into  Helen's  thoughts. 
She  was  thinking  how  good  and  kind  it  was  of 
the  Saviour  to  die  for  sinners,  to  save  those 
who  had  done  wrong  5  but  the  idea  that  she  was  a 
sinner,  she  would  have  rejected  with  haughty 
scorn. 

And  as  her  eye  glanced  up  to  the  sky,  and 
rested  on  the  dark  cloud  hiding  the  summit  of 
the  mountain,  no  thought  came  into  her  mind, 
that  over  her  soul  hung  the  dark  cloud  of  self- 
righteousness  and  pride. 

Mr.  Ashton  noticed  the  clouds  gathering  above 
them,  and  rising  hastily,  said  he  must  be  going. 

But  just  at  that  moment,  Donald  MacGregor 
appeared,  with  his  gun  on  his  shoulder,  and  some 
heath-cock  which  he  had  brought  down  for  sup 
per.  Much  as  he  disliked  his  guest,  he  knew  too 


CONQUEST    A.NT)    SACRIFICE.  31 

•well  the  danger  of  sending  any  one  out,  when  a 
storm  was  brewing  in  the  mountains.  He  there 
fore  begged  the  clergyman  to  return  with  them  to 
the  hut. 

Mr.  Ashton  had  no  inclination  to  be  caught  in 
the  rain,  and  the  thunder  was  already  beginning 
to  mutter ;  so  they  all  returned  with  rapid  foot 
steps  to  the  cottage,  and  had  just  reached  it,  when 
the  storm  burst. 

What  is  like  a  storm  in  the  mountains?  So 
sudden,  so  grand,  so  terrible.  It  swept  around 
the  little  hut,  in  its  fierceness,  as  though  it  would 
carry  the  rude  structure  away. 

Another  person  had  been  added  to  the  group 
who  were  listening  around  the  peat  fire  to  the 
storm — Helen's  brother  Malcom,  a  youth  of 
about  nineteen.  He  was  a  shepherd,  and  kept 
the  sheep  of  a  wealthy  farmer  some  miles  distant. 
He  went  early  in  the  morning,  and  remained  all 
day ;  and  the  longer  he  staid  away,  the  better  it 
pleased  Helen,  for  he  well  deserved  the  nick-name 
she  gave  him,  "  Surly  Malcom."  He  took  special 
delight  in  ordering  Helen  around,  and  in  obliging 
her  to  wait  on  him,  and  then  never  troubled  him 
self  to  thank  her,  while  her  father  sat  by  unheeding 


32  HELEN    MA-CGHREGOR;    OR, 

and  unreproving.  Mr.  Ashton  was  not  a  little 
astonished  at  the  readiness  and  good  humour  with 
which  she  obeyed.  But  now  and  then  her  cheek 
would  flush,  and  an  angry  light  dart  from  her 
eye ;  and  he  thought,  with  sorrow,  that  a  life  led 
under  such  trying  circumstances,  with  no  religious 
training  to  counterbalance  the  evil,  would  soon 
spoil  all  Helen's  good  qualities.  Before  the  eve 
ning  was  over,  he  felt  strongly  interested  in  the 
young  girl.  He  felt  that,  with  proper  Christian 
training,  she  would  make  a  noble  woman,  and  he 
took  a  sudden  resolve,  one  of  those  impulses  which 
honor  the  warm  hearts  from  which  they  spring. 

Helen  had  left  the  room  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
he  turned  to  MacGregor  and  said, 

"  Does  Helen  attend  school  ?" 

"  She  does  not,"  was  the  short  and  haughty  an 
swer. 

Mr.  Ashton  then  went  on  to  speak  of  education, 
of  its  importance  to  the  possessor,  of  its  powerful 
influence  on  the  world.  Clement  Ashton  was  an 
eloquent  speaker.  Donald  MacGregor  was  an 
educated  man.  He  listened  at  first  in  silence,  but 
soon  yielded  himself  to  the  charm  of  refined  con 
versation,  to  which  he  had  so  long  been  a  stranger. 


CONQUEST    A.ND    S^LCRIIflCE.  33 


His  prejudices  were  forgotten  for  the  evening,  as 
the  hours  passed  swiftly  by  ;  and  when,  before  re 
tiring,  Mr.  Ashton  asked  permission  to  have  wor 
ship,  he  gave  a  ready  consent.  Upon  seeing  the 
Bible  brought  up,  Malcom,  who  had  sat  in  sullen 
silence  most  of  the  evening,  rose  and  left  the 
room. 

Mr.  Ashton  read  the  twelfth  chapter  of  He 
brews,  which  teaches  so  plainly  how  we  should  re 
ceive  the  chastening  rod.  Then  followed  an  earn 
est  prayer  for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  that  family. 

When  they  rose  from  their  knees,  all  felt  sol 
emn.  Never  had  MacGregor  felt  so  deeply  before 
how  he  was  wasting  his  precious  hours  ;  how  days 
were  following  days,  and  no  good  deeds,  no  noble 
actions,  were  being  registered  by  the  recording 
angel  in  the  book  of  life.  Remorse  stirred  to  its 
very  depths  the  heart  of  the  proud  man,  as  he 
looked  on  his  only  daughter.  How  was  he  train 
ing  her  for  life's  duties,  and  for  the  solemn  hour 
of  death  ?  Mr.  Ashton  could  not  have  spoken  at 
a  more  favorable  time. 

As  Helen,  with  a  graceful  good  night,  left  the 
room,  he  said, 

"  You  have  a  lovely  daughter,  sir." 


34  HELEN    M^COREGOIt;    OR, 

"Yes,"  he  answered  slowly,  "she  grows  like 
our  heath-flowers,  as  beautiful,  and  as  wild." 

"  I  am  a  stranger  to  you,"  said  the  clergyman, 
"  excuse  me,  if  I  seem  presumptuous.  We  were 
just  speaking  of  education,  and  you  acknowledged 
its  value;  then  why  not  educate  Helen?" 

"  I  was  not  aware,  sir,  that  you  had  any  special 
interest  in  my  family,"  answered  Donald,  haugh 
tily. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Mr.  Ashton,  hastily,  "  if  I 
have  taken  a  strong  interest  in  your  daughter.  I 
have  no  children,  and  my  heart  has  been  strangely 
touched  for  this  girl,  brought  up  in  this  bleak 
home.  Lend  her  to  me  a  while," — 

MacGregor's  brow  darkened,  and  an  angry  reply 
rose  to  his  lips,  but  Mr.  Ashton  hastened  to  add : 

"Do  not  be  offended.  I  know  it  is  a  great  favor 
to  ask,  and  it  takes  you  by  surprise.  My  wife 
would  cherish  her  fondly,  as  her  own  daughter. 
Oh,  sir,  how  can  you  answer  at  the  last  day,  for 
denying  to  your  child  the  knowledge  of  a  saving 
faith  in  Christ  Jesus  ?  Let  her  have  a  few  years 
of  Christian  culture,  and  she  shall  return  to  you, 
God  willing,  to  be  the  light  and  comfort  of  your 
home. 


CONQUEST    .A-ND    SACRIFICE.  35 

"  I  am  a  stranger  to  you ;  come  to  Edinburgh, 
if  you  wish  for  recommendations," — 

Donald  interrupted  him  hastily,  "  I  wish  none. 
'One  gentleman  is  quick  to  recognize  another.' 
When  I  trust  at  all,  I  trust  fully.  You  shall 
know  to-morrow." 

What  thoughts  were  with  the  neglectful  father 
through  the  silent  watches  of  that  night  ?  Did  the 
ghosts  of  former  years  stand  round  him,  showing 
him  the  long  array  of  misspent  hours,  and  slighted 
duties  ? 

Or  did  God's  Holy  Spirit  strive  yet  once  more, 
to  waken  him  to  a  higher  life  ? 

He  had  ever  been  more  proud  of  his  daughter, 
than  fond  of  her.  He  acknowledged  to  himself 
in  spite  of  his  skepticism,  that  Mr.  Ashton  was  a 
true  Christian ;  and  looking  forward  to  the  years 
yet  before  him,  he  could  see  no  other  way  of  dis 
posing  of  Helen.  As  to  letting  her  go  out  to 
service,  as  many  another  Scotch  lassie  did,  it  was 
out  of  the  question.  To  that  his  pride  would 
never  consent. 

And  it  was  perhaps,  after  all,  this  very  pride 
that  won  his  consent.  Helen  would  be  educated, 
and  brought  up  like  a  lady,  in  a  manner  fitting 


36  HELEN   MA-CGKREQ-OR. 

her  birth;  and  if  she  did  imbibe  the  religious 
faith  of  her  tutor,  it  would  do  her  no  harm. 

Thus  a  parent's  pride  was  sending  Helen  to  a 
distant  home ;  and  no  fond  parent's  prayer  went 
forth  in  her  behalf,  to  plead  before  the  great  white 
throne,  that  the  eternal  Eye  of  mercy  might  look 
on  all  her  childish  errors,  and  the  eternal  Arm 
protect  her  in  every  danger  and  temptation,  for 
the  sake  of  the  crucified  One. 

The  next  morning  Helen  MacGregor  was  loaned 
to  a  stranger,  with  the  promise  that  she  should  re 
turn  in  five  years. 

Five  years !  Life,  death,  eternal  bliss,  or  eternal 
woe,  may  be  wrapped  in  that  brief  space. 

Five  years!  the  Omniscient  Eye  alone  can  read 
their  mystic  record. 


III. 

tUE    VOYAGE. 

"  To  thee  the  love  of  woman  hath  gone  down : 
Dark  flow  thy  tides  o'er  manhood's  noble  head, 
O'er  youth's  bright  locks,  and  beauty's  flowery  crown  ; 

Yet  must  thou  hear  a  voice — Restore  the  dead ! 
Earth  shall  reclaim  her  precious  things  from  thee ! — 

Restore  the  dead,  thou  sea !" 

BUT  how  did  Helen  like  this  change  in  her 
destiny?  To  a  girl  lively,  enthusiastic, 
and  fond  of  variety  as  she  was,  the  very  sound  of 
travelling  had  a  rare  charm.  She  who  had  stood 
on  the  mountains,  and  gazed  wistfully  out  towards 
the  broad  world,  longing  to  know  what  it  was 
like,  looked  towards  that  distant  home  through 
rose-colored  spectacles.  She  had  never  suifered. 
So  with  the  trusting  faith  of  the  young,  the  cares 
and  trials  of  every-day  life  to  her  were  tinged  with 
a  roseate  hue.  And  then,  to  go  to  America,  that 
land  above  all  others  dear  to  the  heart  of  the  op 
pressed  !  For  Mr.  Ashton  was  an  American,  the 

4  37 


38  HELEN   MA-CGKREGrOR,;    OR, 

rector  of  a  flourishing  congregation  in  one  of  our 
largest  cities.  His  congregation,  like  many  another 
liberal  one,  had  sent  him  on  this  pleasure  trip. 
His  wife  accompanied  him  as  far  as  Edinburgh, 
but  declined  taking  the  wild  excursion  through  the 
Highlands,  preferring  to  remain  with  some  friends 
until  he  returned. 

Had  Helen  been  used  to  affection  and  tender 
care  at  home,  she  would  doubtless  have  shrunk 
from  parting  with  those  around  her. 

Donald  had  never  shown  that  he  really  cared 
for  her ;  and  his  child  had  grown  up  to  regard 
him  with  almost  an  equal  degree  of  indifference. 
Her  brother's  disposition  had  likewise  repelled 
her.  She  loved  Margaret  well;  but  had  domi 
neered  over  the  old  woman  to  too  great  an  extent, 
to  have  for  her  that  respect  and  esteem  which  are 
the  only  true  foundation  of  love. 

Thus  it  happened  that,  when  after  a  two  days' 
stay  at  the  cottage  Mr.  Ashton  was  ready  to  leave, 
Helen  bade  farewell  to  every  glen  and  strath  and 
heathery  mountain,  every  rivulet  and  fairy  nook, 
with  a  sadness  and  a  tenderness  equalling,  if  not 
surpassing,  that  which  she  bestowed  on  the  in 
mates  of  her  home. 


CONQUEST  A]srr>  SACRIFICE.          39 

Old  Margie  wept  bitterly,  and  sorrowed  with  a 
wild  lamentation  over  her  bairn. 

"  Why,  I'm  coming  back  again,"  said  Helen, 
with  a  smile,  though  the  tears  dimmed  her  eyes. 

"  Aye,  aye,  ye'll  come  back  a  fine  leddy,  and  not 
know  old  Margie,"  said  the  woman  half  proudly. 

MacGregor's  parting  with  his  daughter  was  less 
demonstrative,  but  he  kissed  her  with  a  warmth 
of  feeling  which  surprised  Helen ;  and  turning  to 
Mr.  Ashton,  he  said  solemnly,  raising  his  hand  to 
wards  Heaven, — 

"  If  you  forsake  her,  may  your  ashes  be  scat 
tered  on  the  water,"  which  is  the  deepest  impreca 
tion  of  the  Gael. 

And  so  the  parting  was  over,  and  Margie  sighed 
as  she  went  about  her  work,  missing  the  light  foot 
step  and  merry  voice  of  her  darling.  But  Helen, 
all  unconscious  that  she  had  carried  away  with 
her  the  light  of  that  cottage  home,  looked  eagerly 
out  at  every  object  as  they  travelled  on. 

It  was  late  at  night  when  they  reached  Edin 
burgh,  and  Mr.  Ashtou  found  his  wife  anxiously 
awaiting  his  arrival.  He  had  been  detained,  wait 
ing  for  Helen,  two  days  beyond  his  time,  and 
they  would  be  obliged  to  start  the  next  morning. 


40  HELEN   MA.CGHtEGKXR,;   OR, 

Mrs.  Ashton  received  Helen  with  a  warmth  and 
fondness  for  which  the  girl  was  entirely  unpre 
pared. 

She  held  her  off,  and  looked  at  her  with  a 
pleased  smile,  and  kissed  her  many  times,  fondly 
calling  her,  "  my  daughter." 

Miriam  Ashton  was  a  lovely  woman,  from 
whom  God  had  deemed  it  wise  to  withhold  the 
fond  name  of  mother.  But  she  was  a  Christian, 
and  had  learned  to  say  the  Divine  prayer  of  the 
garden,  "  Thy  will  be  done."  And  now  her  heart 
overflowed  with  joy  and  gratitude,  that  the  Master 
had  sent  this  precious  lamb  to  her,  that  she  might 
guide  it  to  the  heavenly  fold. 

But  Helen  had  little  time  that  evening  to  get 
acquainted  with  her  new  friend,  for  Mrs.  Ashton 
sent  her  off  to  bed,  to  prepare,  by  a  good  sleep,  for 
the  morrow's  journey. 

They  started  early  the  next  morning,  and  Helen 
was  almost  breathless,  with  a  kind  of  awe,  as  she 
saw  a  large  ship  for  the  first  time.  It  looked  so 
huge  and  powerful,  and  the  men  at  work  on  it 
seemed  so  small. 

She  could  have  staid  and  watched  there  for 
hours.  The  hurrying  and  bustling,  raising  bag- 


COJVQTJEST    A.3STD   SACRIFICE.  41 

gage  and  goods,  the  strange  shouts  of  the  sailors, 
the  anxious  passengers,  and  the  crowds  of  idle 
lookers  on,  never  wearied  her.  But  she  must  take 
her  turn,  and  become  one  of  the  actors  in  the  scene. 
And  a$  she  stood  on  deck,  a  strange  sense  of  sor 
row  and  loneliness  came  over  her,  as  she  looked 
towards  the  Highlands,  and  thought  of  her  moun 
tain  home. 

We  will  not  describe  the  voyage.  For  the  first 
week,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ashton  were  very  sea-sick ; 
and  Helen  spent  long  hours  quietly  sitting  in  their 
state-room,  and  doing  all  in  her  power  to  relieve 
them. 

Or  else  she  sat  on  deck,  and  watched  with 
dreamy  eyes  the  white  waves  dashing  up  to  the 
ship ;  or  the  sailors  busy  at  their  work.  She  was 
sitting  thus,  one  evening  towards  sunset,  when 
Mr.  Ashton  left  his  state-room  for  the  first  time. 
He  came  and  sat  down  by  her. 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  said,  "  you  have  had  a 
lonely  time  of  it;  but  now  that  I  am  better,  I 
shall  try  and  cheer  you  up.  What  were  you 
thinking  about,  wearing  such  a  grave  face  ?" 

Helen  turned  to  him  with  a  bright  smile,  "I 
believe  I  was  a  little  home-sick ;  I  was  thinking 

4* 


42  HELEN" 


OR, 


of  one  of  Dugald's  songs,  and  a  shadow  stole  over 
my  spirit." 

"  Can  you  sing  it  ?"  asked  Mr.  Ashton  kindly. 
Helen  commenced  in  her  sweet,  clear  voice, 
"  The  Highland  song  of  emigration." 

"  '  We  return  —  we  return  —  we  return  no  more  !' 
So  comes  the  song  to  the  mountain  shore, 
From  those  that  are  leaving  their  Highland  home, 
For  a  world  far  over  the  blue  sea's  foam  : 
'  We  return  no  more  !'  —  and  through  cave  and  dell, 
Mournfully  wanders  that  wild  farewell. 

it  <  We  return  —  we  return  —  we  return  no  more  !' 
So  breathe  sad  voices  our  spirits  o're, 
Murmuring  up  from  the  depth  of  the  heart, 
When  lovely  things  with  their  light  depart, 
And  the  inborn  sound  hath  a  prophet's  tone, 
And  we  feel  that  a  joy  is  forever  gone." 

"Ah,  Helen,"  said  Mr.  Ashton,  laying  his  hand 
on  the  young  girl's  head,  "  you  feel  lonely  now,  yet 
I  trust  you  will  soon  learn,  that  it  matters  little 
on  what  shore  we  dwell,  whether  the  sky  o'er- 
shadows  sunny  vales  and  balmy  breezes,  or  the 
ruder  climes  of  the  North.  True  happiness  lives 
within  the  heart  at  peace  with  God.  Our  blessed 
Saviour  said,  when  he  was  leaving  his  disciples, 
'  My  p<~  %  I  leave  with  you,'  and  since  then  every 


CONQUEST    A.3STD    SACRIFICE.  43 

Christian  feels  some  of  that  divine  peace  dwelling 
in  his  heart,  helping  him  to  overcome  the  world, 
and  to  bear  its  trials  bravely.  Do  you  not  wish 
to  be  a  Christian  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Helen,  a  little  doubtfully,  for 
she  scarcely  comprehended  what  the  term  meant. 

"Then  pray  to  God  to  make  you  one,  my 
daughter.  The  desire  to  be  a  Christian  is  the  first 
step  towards  being  one.  If  you  saw  a  beautiful 
gem,  and  had  money  to  buy  it,  you  would  not  go 
to  procure  it  unless  you  first  wished  for  it.  So  it 
is  with  the  pearl  of  great  price,  eternal  life.  When 
once  you  really  wish  for  it,  you  will  set  out  to 
seek  it  with  earnest  prayer." 

"  I  wish,"  said  Helen,  looking  wistfully  down 
into  the  blue  waves,  "  I  wish  we  did  not  have  to 
be  good ;  it  is  so  much  easier  to  do  just  as  we  feel 
like  doing." 

"  Yes,  it  is  certainly  easier,  but  I  never  yet  saw 
any  one,  that  could  do  just  as  he  pleased,  who 
was  very  happy.  Believe  me,  Helen,  we  each  of 
us  have  a  life-work  to  do,  and  when  we  neglect 
that  work,  the  sting  of  unfulfilled  duty  mars  our 
pleasure,  and  instead  of  bringing  peace  and  hap 
piness  renders  life  a  burden." 


44  HELEN   MACGKREOOR;    OR, 

"Have  I  a  life-work,  do  you  think?"  asked 
Helen,  thoughtfully. 

"  Certainly,  my  child,  every  one  has  his  work 
in  the  great  harvest  field  of  the  world ;  and  at  the 
last  great  day,  each  one  must  render  up  his  ac 
count  to  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth.  What  my 
Helen's  work  will  be,  time  alone  can  show ;  God 
give  her  grace  to  do  it  well." 

Helen  sighed  at  the  fearful  responsibility  that 
seemed  thus  thrown  upon  her.  Youth  dreads  the 
thought  of  care  and  duty,  and  Helen  almost  wished 
she  had  never  known  that  life  was  something  more 
than  idle  dreaming  through  sunny  days.  But 
wish  as  she  would,  those  solemn  words  haunted 
her,  and  she  longed  to  know  what  her  life-work 
would  be. 

My  dear  young  readers,  pause  here,  and  ask  what 
yours  is.  Have  you  already  found  it  ?  or  are  you 
spending  your  time  hi  the  gaieties  around  you, 
without  a  thought  of  duty  unfulfilled  ?  Are  there 
no  little  companions  for  you  to  lead  in  the  heavenly 
road?  Is  there  no  mother's  care  to  lighten?  no 
father's  home  to  cheer?  no  little  brothers  and 
sisters,  whom  you  can  comfort  and  please?  If 
there  are  none  of  these,  yet  there  are  plenty  of 


CONQUEST    A.Tirr>    SACRIFICE.  45 

wandering  little  ones,  whom  you  might  win  into 
the  Sunday-school.  Think  of  it,  reader;  you 
are  young,  perhaps,  but  some  die  young,  and  how 
mil  you  answer  the  blessed  Master  for  having 
neglected  his  work, — for  having  slighted  duty  ? 

Helen  thought  long  on  this,  not  only  then,  but 
many  times.  This  conversation  left  an  enduring 
impression  on  her  mind,  as  it  was  the  last  one  she 
ever  held  with  her  kind  friend.  That  night 
typhus  fever  broke  out  on  board  the  ship,  and 
early  and  late  Mr.  Ashton  stood  at  death  beds, 
giving  the  consolations  of  religion  to  the  dying. 
Then  the  time  came  when  he  could  no  longer  answer 
to  the  passionate  appeal  for  help.  For  he  too  was 
stricken.  The  shock  was  too  great  for  Miriam's 
frail  health ;  and  with  the  calmness  of  despair, 
Helen  bathed  the  brow  of  one,  and  raised  the  cool 
ing  draught  to  the  lips  of  the  other. 

Oh,  death,  thou  art  indeed  pitiless !  The  bright 
moon  of  a  summer  night  looked  down  on  a  burial 
at  sea.  Two  bodies,  sewn  up  in  coarse  cloth,  lay 
on  the  deck.  A  few  sailors  and  passengers  were 
grouped  near  them;  while  the  captain  read  the 
solemn  burial  service  for  the  dead  at  sea.  Then 
the  sailors  gently  raised  the  bodies.  But  at  that 


46  HELEN    MACGHREGKm ;    OR,, 

moment  a  young  girl  darted  from  the  group,  and 
threw  herself  upon  the  dead,  passionately  weeping. 
All  in  vain,  Helen !  The  deep  splash  is  heard,  a 
sudden  stillness  succeeds,  and  Clement  Ashton  and 
the  lovely  Miriam  sleep  in  a  watery  grave.  But 
why  lament  them?  All  that  are  in  the  grave 
shall  hear  his  voice,  and  come  forth,  whether  they 
rest  in  the  "  cold  embrace  of  ocean,"  or  sleep  in 
the  green  valleys  of  earth.  They  were  Christians, 
and  for  them  to  die  was  gain.  Mysterious  are  the 
ways  of  Providence.  Some  writer  beautifully 
says,  "  God's  dealings  seem  to  man  like  the  scat 
tered  stones  of  the  mosaic,  valueless !  It  requires 
a  master's  hand  to  form  them  into  a  perfect  pic 
ture." 

Very  dark  and  dreary  seemed  the  world  then 
to  Helen,  far  away  from  her  own  home,  a  stranger, 
and  alone.  Yet  she  was  not  alone ;  God's  watch 
ful  care  and  tenderness  were  over  her.  Ah,  in 
that  hour,  how  much  happier  would  have  been 
Helen's  lot,  could  she  have  gone  to  her  Saviour 
with  child-like  trust,  and  prayed  him  to  take  care 
of  her.  But  this  Helen  had  never  learned  to  do. 

She  forgot  her  Saviour,  and  murmured  bitterly ; 
but  He  had  not  forgotten  her.  Among  the  pas- 


CONQUEST    AISTD    SACRIFICE.  4T 

sengers  was  a  gentleman  for  whom  Helen  had 
often  sung,  during  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ashton's  illness, 
when  she  came  up  on  deck  to  breathe  a  little  fresh 
air.  To  him  she  imparted  her  simple  story.  He, 
as  well  as  all  on  board,  felt  very  sorry  for  her, 
and  wondered  much  what  would  become  of  her. 
Mr.  Murphy  was  a  travelling  agent,  with  no  set 
tled  home.  He  felt,  therefore,  that  he  could  not 
take  care  of  her  if  he  had  wished,  which  he  did 
not ;  but  he  had  a  married  sister  living  in  a  small 
country  village,  to  whom  he  determined  to  send 
Helen,  if  she  would  consent,  and  no  better  home 
was  oifered  her.  No  one  else  did  offer  to  befriend 
the  homeless  girl;  and  entirely  ignorant  of  the 
world,  without  money  or  friends,  Helen  gratefully 
accepted  Mr.  Murphy's  proposition.  "  She  will  do 
to  take  care  of  the  children,"  thought  he. 

From  that  day  Helen's  brow  cleared,  and  she 
felt  contented  once  more.  Youth  shuns  sorrow, 
and  Helen  tried  to  forget  the  true  friends,  sleeping 
in  their  watery  grave.  She  and  Mr.  Murphy 
got  along  well  together ;  she  was  never  tired  of 
hearing  accounts  of  her  new  home,  or  stories  of 
foreign  travel,  and  thus  many  hours  were  whiled 
away,  but  with  little  profit  to  Helen,  as  Mr.  Mur- 


48  HELEN 

phy  was  not  a  religious  man,  and  Helen  soon  for 
got  the  pure  teachings  she  had  learned  from  Mr. 
Ashton's  lips. 

Much  idle  time  she  spent  in  wondering  what 
her  new  home  would  be  like. 

"  Let  me  see,"  she  would  say  to  herself  many 
times,  "  there  are  five  children,  three  boys  and  two 
girls..  John,  Mary,  Augusta,  Eddie,  and  Charlie. 
Charlie,  the  dear  little  baby,  how  I  shall  love 
him !  Indeed  I'll  love  them  all ;  what  nice  times 
we'll  have  at  play,  and  at  school !  I  wonder  if 
there  are  any  mountains  or  hills  to  climb,  or 
heather-bells  to  gather  ?" 

Thus  Helen  would  plan  and  dream,  and  fill  the 
future  full  of  impossible  pleasure,  until  she  soon 
forgot  her  lost  friends  in  the  grand  visions  of  her 
proud  fancy.  For  pride  was  one  of  Helen's 
greatest  faults,  and  she  longed  some  day  to  return 
to  her  father's  house,  a  rich  lady.  Of  the  treasure 
laid  up  in  heaven,  she  never  thought. 


IV. 

THE    ASK  I  r AX,. 

"  Oh  learn  that  it  is  only  by  the  lowly 

The  paths  of  peace  are  trod; 

If  thou  wouldst  keep  thy  garments  white  and  holy, 
Walk  humbly  with  thy  God." 

THE  whistle  blew  loud  and  long,  and  the  great 
engine  puffed  slower,  and  slower,  as  the  cars 
stopped  at  the  station,  and  the  conductor  told 
Helen  she  was  to  get  out.  Poor  Helen  felt  ter 
ribly  frightened  and  lonely,  as  the  cars  whistled 
off  again,  and  she  was  left  standing  on  the  plat 
form  beside  her  little  box  of  clothes.  She  looked 
all  around  for  the  waiting  carriage,  which  Mr. 
Murphy  said  would  be  there  to  meet  her.  For 
he  had  written  an  account  of  Helen  to  his  sister, 
and  told  her  to  send  to  the  depot  for  the  child,  as 
he  could  not  accompany  her.  All  this  Helen 
knew,  and  a  sickening  dread  came  over  her,  at  the 
thought  that  perhaps  they  had  not  got  the  letter. 
However,  Helen  was  naturally  hopeful,  and  as  she 

5  D  49 


50  HELE3NT    M A.CGKR,EGK>R. ;    OR, 

knew  the  name  of  the  village  was  Brookfield,  and 
that  it  was  two  miles  from  the  station,  she  felt  cer 
tain  she  could  get  there  somehow.  She  looked 
round.  JSTo  one  was  in  sight  but  a  man  smoking 
and  reading  a  newspaper  in  the  little  room,  and  a 
boy  standing  near  the  open  door. 

Helen  stepped  up  to  the  boy  and  asked  if  he 
knew  whether  there  was  any  one  there  from  Brook- 
field. 

"Brookfield!"  exclaimed  the  boy,  looking  sur 
prised;  "why  if  you  wanted  to  go  to  Brookfield, 
why  didn't  you  get  out  at  the  station  ten  miles 
above?" 

"Oh,  dear!"  said  Helen,  almost  ready  to  cry, 
"is  it  ten  miles?  How  shall  I  get  there?  can  you 
tell  me?" 

"Have  to  walk,"  answered  the  boy. 

Helen  stood  irresolute  for  some  time.  "If  it 
were  not  for  my  box,"  she  thought,  "I  might 
walk."  For  Helen  had  been  brought  up  in  the 
mountains,  and  miles  seemed  nothing  much  to  her. 

"Well,  why  don't  you  start  off?"  asked  the  boy. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  my  box.  Do 
you  think  I  could  leave  it  here  until  they  send  for 
it?  I  can  easily  walk  the  distance." 


CONQUEST    A.ND    SA-CRIITTCE.  51 

The  boy  looked  at  her  in  astonishment,  then 
putting  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  he  gave  two  or 
three  whistles.  "You  walk  it!"  he  exclaimed. 

"To  be  sure  I  can,"  answered  Helen  bravely. 

"Very  well,  we'll  see;  I'll  carry  your  box.  Go 
ahead." 

"You  go  first,  I  don't  know  the  way." 

The  boy  took  up  the  box,  and  walked  around 
the  house,  followed  by  Helen.  Behind  the  house 
stood  a  carriage  and  horse,  and  depositing  the  box 
behind,  he  told  Helen  to  jump  in. 

Helen  looked  at  him  with  some  surprise,  and 
asked,  "Can  we  go  in  this  carriage?  Is  it  yours?" 

The  boy  laughed  so,  he  was  unable  to  reply  for 
some  time.  At  length  he  made  her  understand 
that  he  had  been  sent  to  meet  her.  When  Helen 
found  this  out,  she  was  very  angry,  and  refused  to 
answer  any  of  the  numerous  questions  the  boy  put 
to  her.  But  notwithstanding  this,  he  continued  to 
chuckle  to  himself  every  now  and  then,  at  the 
good  joke  he  had  played.  At  length  Helen  could 
endure  it  no  longer. 

"What  is  your  name?"  she  asked. 

"Pudding  and  tame,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"Now  she's  cross  again,"  continued   the  boy, 


52  HELEN    MAC'GKREOOR;    OR, 

looking  mischievously  into  Helen's  face.  "  You'd 
better  make  friends  with  me,  I  tell  you,  for  I'm 
boss  round  our  house." 

This  seemed  so  ridiculous  to  Helen,  that  she 
burst  into  a  merry  laugh.  This  pleased  the  boy 
so  well,  that  he  stopped  teasing,  and  condescended 
to  talk  sensibly.  Helen  soon  found  out  that  this 
was  John,  the  oldest  son,  but  very  unlike  the  John 
she  had  thought  about. 

They  were  a  long  time  getting  over  the  two 
miles ;  for  John  first  drove  very  fast  to  try  and 
frighten  Helen ;  then  finding  he  could  not  succeed 
in  that,  he  drove  very,  very  slow,  for  the  rest  of 
the  way,  to  try  and  tire  her  patience;  and  he 
quite  wondered  to  find  that  she  did  not  mind  it 
at  all. 

In  fact  Helen  was  thinking  a  great  deal  too  in 
tently  of  the  kind  of  people  of  which  John  was  a 
representative,  to  trouble  herself  whether  they  rode 
fast  or  slow. 

At  length  the  carriage  drove  up  before  a  hand 
some  brick  house,  in  the  main  street  of  a  small 
village.  A  neat  yard  was  in  front  filled  with 
flowers.  As  soon  as  the  carriage  drove  in  at  the 
gate,  three  children  rushed  all  together  out  of  the 


CONQUEST   A.3STD    SACRIFICE.  53 

front  door,  nearly  knocking  each  other  down  in 
their  rude  haste. 

"  Hallo !  there !"  shouted  John,  "  here  we  are, 
all  safe  and  sound.  Run  in  young  scamps,  and  call 
your  mother." 

"  You  go,  Mary." 

"  No,  I  won't ;  you  go  Eddie." 

"  Won't,  won't,"  said  Eddie,  who  was  almost  too 
small  to  talk  plain. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  if  some  of  you  don't  go  di 
rectly,  I'll  get  out  of  this  carriage,  with  my  whip. 
Go  Gussie,  run." 

"  Yes,  go  Gussie,"  said  Mary. 

Augusta,  without  answering,  ran  in,  and  soon  re 
appeared  with  a  tall,  fine-looking  lady.  In  the 
mean  time  Helen  had  sat  patiently  in  the  carriage 
and  submitted  to  be  stared  at.  When  Mrs.  Rel- 
lim  appeared,  she  said  at  once, 

"  Why  don't  you  open  the  carriage,  John,  and 
not  keep  the  child  sitting  there  all  day  ?" 

"  Well  now,  mother,  what's  the  use  in  my  get 
ting  down  just  to  open  the  door,  when  I  will  have 
to  get  right  up  again  to  drive  to  the  stable  ?  You 
open  it." 

"  Oh,  John,  you  are  too  bad ;  what  a  selfish,  un- 
5  * 


54  HELEN   IVIA.CGKREGrOR, ;    Olt, 

gallant  boy  you  are.  I  am  really  ashamed  of 
you." 

By  this  time  Helen  had  succeeded  in  opening 
the  door  herself,  and  now  stepped  out.  The  chil 
dren  formed  a  regular  procession  to  escort  her  up 
stairs;  and  John  having  utterly  refused  to  get 
down  and  carry  up  the  box,  one  of  the  servants 
was  summoned  from  the  kitchen,  who  with  Helen's 
assistance  took  it  in. 

Once  in  the  house,  Helen  was  charmed  with 
everything  around  her.  Rich  curtains  shaded  out 
the  glaring  sunlight.  Her  foot  fell  on  the  softest 
carpets.  Her  eye  wandered  with  delight  over 
pictures,  books,  and  marble  vases. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  thought,  "  this  is  the  very  home 
I've  dreamed  of;  wealthy  and  beautiful.  Here  I 
shall  live  a  fine  lady,  as  Margie  has  many  a  time 
told  me  became  a  daughter  of  the  MacGregor. 
Better  this  than  wandering  over  the  mountains, 
even  though  they  be  the  loved  Highlands  of  Scot 
land." 

Thus  Helen's  thoughts  ran  on,  as  the  children 
were  showing  her  over  the  house.  In  imagina 
tion  the  girl  saw  herself  reclining  on  the  velvet 
sofas,  dressed  in  silk,  while  her  hands  sparkled 


CONQUKST    -A.ND    SA.CK.IFICE.  55 


with  jewels.  Yes,  as  I  have  said  before,  pride  was 
Helen's  greatest  fault.  She  was  a  very  pretty 
girl,  and  Margie's  flattering,  Dugald's  petting,  and 
the  pride  and  exclusiveness  of  her  father,  had  all 
gone  to  foster  her  besetting  sin.  And  yet,  with 
this  sad  fault,  Helen  was  so  warm-hearted  and 
generous,  that  it  was  often  hard  to  chide  her. 
She  now  rejoiced  in  this  home  of  ease  and  elegance, 
never  asking  herself  if  the  vital  spirit  of  Christi 
anity  made  it  indeed  a  true  home.  She  did  dis 
cover,  after  she  had  been  there  two  or  three  days, 
that  every  one  was  thoroughly  selfish,  each  seek 
ing  to  cast  all  duty  and  care  on  another.  She 
found  also,  that  no  one  there  ever  prayed  or  went 
to  church,  that  the  children  were  disobedient  and 
saucy.  But  all  this  mattered  little  to  the  ease- 
loving  Helen.  She  lived  in  a  splendid  home,  she, 
as  well  as  all  the  rest,  did  just  as  she  pleased,  and 
she  was  contented.  Thus  Helen  would  have  been 
contented  to  spend  her  life.  But  thanks  be  to 
God,  that  he  watches  over  us  with  a  father's  love. 
"  And  as  an  eagle  stirreth  up  her  nest,"  that  her 
young  brood  may  learn  the  use  of  their  wings,  so 
the  Almighty  Father  rouses  us  from  our  slothful 
dreams,  to  teach  us  what  life  really  is. 


56  HELEN"    MA-CGKREGJOR ;   OR,, 

Two  weeks  had  glided  by,  and  Helen  laughed 
and  sang  with  the  children,  and  bore  John's  teas 
ing  with  a  good  nature  that  took  away  all  his  fun. 
When  one  afternoon,  Mrs.  Rellim  said, 

"  Helen,  it  is  so  pleasant,  suppose  you  take  the 
children  and  go  out  for  a  walk ;  and  when  you 
come  back,  come  up  to  my  dressing-room,  I  have 
something  to  say  to  you." 

Helen's  curiosity  was  a  little  aroused,  but  she 
soon  forgot  it  in  the  pleasures  of  the  walk.  She 
loved  all  nature.  True,  Brookfield  was  not  her 
own  wild  home,  but  it  had  shady  lanes  and  lovely 
gardens,  and  you  could  wander  on  to  quiet  woods 
and  sunny  glades  where  little  birds  sang,  and  the 
brooklet  murmured. 

In  one  of  these  lovely  spots  they  sat  down  to 
rest. 

"  Oh,  what  beautiful  leaves !"  exclaimed  Helen, 
looking  at  the  fern,  which  grew  in  thick  bunches. 

"  Shall  I  bring  you  some  ?"  asked  Gussie. 

"Yes,  and  I'll  make  some  wreaths  for  your 
hate." 

"  The  first  wreath  is  for  me,"  said  Mary. 

"  No,  it's  for  me,  because  I  got  the  fern.  Isn't 
it,  Helen  ?"  asked  Gussie. 


CONQUEST   A.NTD    SACRIFICE.  57 

"It's  no  such  thing;  I  guess  I'm  the  oldest, 
and  I  will  have  it." 

"  You  shan't !"  said  Eddie,  joining  in  the  quar 
rel,  and  giving  Mary  a  hit  with  a  small  switch 
that  he  carried. 

Mary  immediately  jumped  up,  and  struck  him 
in  the  face.  It  took  all  Helen's  strength,  as  well 
as  powers  of  persuasion,  to  separate  the  two  angry 
children ;  when  at  length  they  settled  down,  she 
wondered  if  all  rich  children  were  as  ill-natured. 

"I  never  did  see  such  children,"  she  said, 
"  why  can't  you  behave  ?  To  quarrel  about  such 
a  little  thing." 

If  Helen  had  been  older,  she  might  have  known 
that  nearly  all  quarrels  are  begun  about  some 
trifling  thing;  so  trifling  that  people  would  be 
ashamed  to  tell  the  true  cause. 

"Gussie  began  it,"  answered  Mary,  sulkily, 
"  and  it's  no  business  of  yours ;  I  am  almost  as  old 
as  you  are,  and  we  don't  have  to  mind  you." 

"  Gussie  didn't  begin  it,  that's  a  story,  Mary ; 
now  I  shall  not  make  you  any  wreath." 

"I  don't  want  any  of  your  wreaths;  I  can 
make  a  better  one  myself." 

"  You  can't,"  answered  Helen,  shortly.     Helen, 


58  HELEN    MACGKREGOR,;    OR, 

as  well  as  Mary,  had  been  brought  up  to  have  her 
own  way,  and  forgetting  her  sage  remark  about 
the  smallness  of  the  cause,  a  new  quarrel  com 
menced.  Not  the  first  one  they  had  had,  for 
Mary  and  Helen  could  seldom  agree ;  and  contin 
ually  was  Mrs.  Rellim  bothered  by  complaints 
from  Mary.  But  Helen  was  soon  over  her  ill 
temper,  and  although  Mary  always  sulked  a  while, 
Helen  generally  succeeded  in  getting  all  parties  in 
a  good  humor  before  long.  On  this  afternoon  the 
beauty  of  the  weather  and  all  nature  seemed  about 
to  be  lost  on  the  quarrelsome  children.  But  after 
a  while,  Helen  said, 

"  Well,  never  mind,  what's  the  use  in  us  miss 
ing  this  lovely  afternoon  ?  Let  us  all  make  up. 
I'll  braid  you  a  wreath,  too,  Mary." 

But  Mary  was  not  to  be  won  over  for  a  long 
time.  Helen  tried  various  topics,  but  Mary  re 
fused  to  talk,  until  Helen  asked, 

"  Don't  you  go  to  school,  Mary  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  in  winter  time ;  it  is  vacation  now. 
That  is  the  school-house  over  on  the  hill,  you  see 
from  here ;  oh,  we  have  lots  of  fun  though." 

"Fun!"  said  Helen,  looking  astonished,  "I 
thought  you  went  there  to  study." 


CONQUEST    A.Nr>    SACRIFICE.  59 

"  Well,  greenie !  so  we  do,  that  is,  we're  sent 
there  to  study,  but  we  study  precious  little,"  an 
swered  Mary. 

"I'm  sure  I  shall  study  when  I  go,"  said 
Helen. 

"  Are  you  going  to  school  ?"  said  Mary,  in  sur 
prise  ;  "  well,  you  are  a  dunce,  to  go  to  school 
when  you  don't  have  to.  Ma  won't  make  you 
go." 

"  I  think  I'd  be  a  dunce  if  I  didn't  go.  Be 
sides,  I  want  to  learn.  Here's  your  wreath,  Gus- 
sie,  don't  it  look  lovely  ?" 

"  I'm  going  to  school,  too,  next  fall,  Helen, 
I'm  so  glad  you're  going,"  said  Gussie,  "  for  I  shall 
feel  so  lonely  among  so  many  boys  and  girls. 
Oh,  there  comes  Nora  Neville,"  continued  the 
child,  jumping  up,  and  running  down  the  wood 
land  path  to  meet  a  young  girl  carrying  a  pitcher. 
Helen  looked  up  as  they  drew  near,  and  saw  Gus 
sie  with  her  arm  around  the  waist  of  a  girl  several 
years  older  than  herself.  She  had  on  a  very  pretty 
light  chintz  dress,  and  a  straw  hat ;  and  her  hair 
curled  in  little,  crispy,  thick  curls  all  round  the 
edge  of  it.  Yet,  notwithstanding  a  pair  of  bright 
blue  eyes  and  rosy  cheeks,  Helen  thought  her  very 


60  HELEN   MA-COREQOR;    OR,, 

ugly,  and  she  was  dressed  as  though  she  was  not 
rich ;  therefore,  having  neither  beauty  nor  riches, 
she  was  in  Helen's  estimation  no  one  of  any  ac 
count. 

It  is  true  Nora's  nose  was  very  pug,  and  her 
mouth  not  by  any  means  small ;  yet  those  who 
knew  Nora  Neville  well,  generally  found  her  nose 
and  mouth  to  be  entirely  hidden  by  her  pleasant 
smile,  and  white  teeth.  But  Helen  had  yet  to 
learn  that  there  are  more  beautiful  things  in  the 
world  than  a  pretty  face. 

"  Why,  Nora  Neville,  you've  been  after  milk," 
said  Mary,  contemptuously. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  girl,  looking  down  into  the 
pitcher,  "don't  it  look  nice?  Now  if  you  all 
come  round,  you  shall  have  some,  for  mother  is 
going  to  make  milk  toast.  Oh,  I've  had  such  a 
splendid  walk  down  to  Mr.  Nelson's  farm,  and 
Mr.  Nelson  just  happened  to  be  there,  and  he  took 
up  the  pan  and  filled  the  pitcher,  although  I  told 
him  it  held  two  quarts,  and  I  only  had  money  to 
pay  for  one.  He  just  called  me  a  little  witch, 
and  told  -me  to  be  off,  and  drink  the  extra  milk 
going  home.  So  you  see  I  will  have  plenty  for 
all  hands." 


CONQUEST   AND    SACRIFICE.  61 

"But  what  made  you  take  such  a  big  pitcher?" 
asked  Helen,  laughing  at  its  size. 

Nora,  too,  joined  in  the  laugh,  as  she  looked 
at  it,  for  she  had  put  it  on  the  ground,  "Well, 
mother  said  if  the  pitcher  were  full,  I  would  slop 
it  all  over  my  clothes,  I  am  so  heedless,  and  would 
lose  half  the  milk,  and  now  I  will  show  mother 
she  was  mistaken.  I  told  her  everybody  would 
laugh  at  my  big  pitcher.  But  my  arm  is  dread 
fully  tired.  Every  little  stone  I  saw,  I  felt  sure 
I'd  stumble  over,"  and  Nora  laughed  merrily. 

"My  mother  wouldn't  let  me  go  after  milk: 
that's  servants'  work,"  said  Mary. 

"Servants'  work!"  repeated  Nora,  "so  it  is, 
when  you  have  a  servant ;  but  we  don't  keep  one, 
you  know.  And  mother  says  dressing  fine  and 
doing  nothing  never  make  a  lady;  it  is  only  the 
behaviour.  But  I  must  go  now." 

"No,  don't  go  yet,  Nora,"  said  Gussie,  kissing 
her,  "  I  hardly  ever  get  to  see  you  now." 

"I'd  like  to  stay,  Gussie,  it  is  so  lovely  here, 
but  mother  told  me  not  to  loiter." 

"What  a  little  calf  you  are,  Augusta,"  said 
Mary,  angrily. 

"  I  don't  care,"  was  the  answer. 


62  HELEN    MA-CGKREGKXR,;    OR, 

Nora  took  up  her  heavy  pitcher,  and  they  all 
set  off  together,  not  one  offering  to  help  her  but 
Gussie,  and  she  was  too  weak  to  carry  it.  Helen's 
better  feelings  prompted  her  to  take  the  pitcher 
from  the  tired  arms  of  Nora.  But  the  Scotch 
girl,  who  feared  nothing  visible,  feared  the  invis 
ible,  keenly  felt  shaft  of  ridicule.  If  Mary  Rel- 
lim  was  too  proud  to  carry  milk,  she  should  be 
too.  So  Nora  walked  on  to  the  turning,  at  which 
she  left  them,  merrily  talking  and  laughing  with 
Gussie;  for  Mary  held  herself  aloof,  and  Helen 
had  as  much  as  she  could  do  to  keep  Eddie  in 
order,  as  he  would  persist  in  walking  in  the  mud, 
and  was  a  pitiable  object  when  they  reached 
home. 

The  walk,  after  they  left  Nora,  was  not  very 
agreeable,  for  ill  temper  spoils  the  most  pleasant 
thing,  and  Mary  and  Augusta  were  angry  at  each 
other  about  Nora ;  and  Eddie  was  in  a  bad  humor, 
because  Helen  would  take  him  out  of  the  mud. 
As  for  Helen,  she  felt  that  sh.e  had  done  an  un 
generous  and  mean  thing,  in  not  offering  to  help 
Nora,  and  the  words  of  the  girl  haunted  her,  "it 
is  not  how  we  dress,  but  how  we  behave;"  and 
Helen  felt  convinced  that  she  had  not  behaved  at  all 


CONQUEST    A.THTD   SACRIFICE.  63 

lady-like.  But  with  the  readiness  with  which  she 
usually  dismissed  disagreeable  subjects,  she  said  it 
was  too  late  now  to  worry.  So  without  taking  off 
her  things,  she  ran  up  into  Mrs.  Rellim's  dressing- 
room. 


V. 

DAJRK   KOTTRS. 

"Thank  God,  that  in  life's  little  day 

Between  our  dawn  and  setting, 
We  have  kind  deeds  to  give  away, 
Sad  hearts  for  which  our  own  may  pray, 
And  strength,  when  we  are  wronged  to  say, 

Forgiving  and  forgetting." 

IT  is  a  sorrowful  characteristic  of  the  human 
heart,  that  we  long  so  earnestly  to  read  the  fu 
ture.  That  longing  is  the  buoy  that  betrays  the 
hidden  discontent  of  the  present.  But  oh!  wise 
and  merciful  is  the  "All  Father"  to  hide  every 
coming  event,  lest  the  shadow  should  eclipse  the 
sunshine. 

The  woods  had  caught  the  echo  of  Helen's  girl 
ish  laugh,  as  the  sunlight  glinted  red  on  the  tree- 
tops  ;  she  little  dreamed  then  that  the  same  woods 
would  catch  her  tears,  ere  another  hour. 

As  the  young  girl  entered  the  dressing-room, 

64 


COTTQTJEST    AJSTD    SACRIFICE:.  65 

Mrs.  Eellim  looked  up,  and  kindly  asked  if  she 
had  had  a  pleasant  walk. 

"Oh,  very  pleasant,  ma'am,"  answered  Helen. 

"Perhaps  you  know,  Helen,"  said  Mrs.  Rellim, 
"that  when  my  brother  sent  you  here,  he  merely 
sent  a  letter  first,  announcing  your  coming,  and 
did  not  wait  at  all  to  ascertain  my  views  on  the 
subject.  I  wrote  to  him  at  once,  telling  him  to 
come  for  you,  as  I  could  not  keep  you.  He  was 
absent  from  the  city,  and  did  not  get  my  letter  in 
time.  Last  night  I  received  his  answer.  He  is 
just  about  starting  off  again,  and  says  it  will  be 
impossible  for  him  to  take  care  of  you;  that  you 
must  look  out  for  another  home." 

All  this  Mrs.  Rellim  said  in  a  calm,  uncon 
cerned  tone,  as  though  she  was  merely  telling 
Helen  to  do  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  j  while 
Helen  listened  with  a  flushed  cheek,  and  averted 
look. 

"Where  can  I  go,  ma'am!"  she  asked  bit 
terly. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  child,"  Mrs.  Rellim 
answered  indolently. 

"Then  how  am  I  to  know?"  passionately  asked 

Helen.       "Your    brother   deserves   my   warmest 
6  *  E 


66  HELEN    M A.C&REGOE, ;    OR, 

thanks,  for  taking  a  homeless  girl,  cheating  her 
with  fair  promises,  and  then  leaving  her." 

"There,  there,  child,  there's  no  hurry  about  it. 
My  brother  meant  kindly.  Stay  here  a  while,  and 
inquire,  and  look  round,  and  don't  fret." 

"Don't  fret?  Madam!"  impatiently  exclaimed 
the  girl,  while  her  eyes  flashed  with  anger,  "it  is 
easy  to  say,  don't  worry,  to  the  homeless.  And 
this  is  the  hospitality  of  America?  Never  a  stran 
ger  sought  a  Highlander's  cottage,  but  he  was 
welcome  to  share  the  last  meal.  Aye,  and  welcome 
to  stay  till  he  was  weary.  The  tongue  of  the 
Highlander  would  wither,  ere  he'd  tell  the  stran 
ger  to  go  further." 

"Helen!  Helen!"  said  Mrs.  Rellim,  as  Helen 
walked  angrily  up  and  down.  "I  do  not  wish 
you  to  go  now.  Stay  as  long  as  you  wish.  I 
only — " 

"Stay  now?  never!  I  will  not  stay  where  I  am 
not  wanted." 

"Listen  to  me,  Helen, — " 

But  Helen  had  vanished.  Mrs.  Eellim  was 
astonished.  So  merry  and  obliging  had  Helen  al 
ways  been,  that  she  never  dreamed  of  the  sleeping 
volcano  of  temper  that  lay  beneath  that  sunny  sur- 


CONQUEST    -A.ND    S^CRIFICJi:.  67 


face.  But  few  things  ever  troubled  Mrs.  Rellim. 
She  sank  back  in  her  luxurious  chair,  saying,  with 
a  smile, 

"What  a  little  spit-fire  the  girl  is,"  and  resum 
ing  her  book,  thought  no  more  about  it. 

To  do  Mrs.  Rellim  justice,  she  did  not  at  all  in 
tend  to  turn  the  young  girl  out  of  her  house.  But 
she  had  no  use  for  her,  and  did  not  feel  obliged  to 
keep  her,  merely  to  suit  her  brother's  whim.  All 
this  she  would  have  explained  to  Helen,  had  she 
had  time.  But  Helen's  proud,  quick  temper  took 
alarm  at  once,  and  she  refused  to  listen. 

When  Helen  went  down  stairs,  not  caring  which 
direction  she  took,  so  that  she  might  get  away 
somewhere,  she  rushed  out  of  the  front  door,  and 
almost  mechanically  took  the  path  to  the  little 
woods.  She  reached  the  quiet  spot  she  had  left 
only  a  short  time  before,  but  twilight  now  rendered 
it  gloomy.  The  sunlight,  too,  had  left  Helen's 
face,  and  the  dark  night  of  anger  clouded  it.  She 
threw  herself  passionately  on  the  ground,  as  she 
had  thrown  herself,  many  a  time,  in  childish  anger, 
on  the  wild  heather,  there  to  stay  in  wilful  soli 
tude,  till  Margaret,  worried  and  sorry,  came  and 
coaxed  her  home,  willingly  yielding  the  disputed 


68  HELEN"    M^CQ-HEGJ-OR, ;    OR, 

point.  But  no  Margaret  came  now  to  soothe  the 
spoiled  girl;  and  Helen  lay  there  thinking  bitter 
thoughts  of  all  things. 

"Why  had  her  father  let  her  leave  her  own  dear 
home,  to  be  insulted,  and  turned  out  of  doors? 
He  might  have  known  she  would  be  miserable. 
And  Mrs.  Rellim," — here  her  anger  burst  forth 
anew,  for  Helen  never  stopped  to  reason  that  Mrs. 
Rellim  was  under  no  obligation  to  fulfil  the 
whims  of  her  brother,  especially  as  she  had  never 
even  been  consulted  about  it,  or  given  a  choice. 
But  Helen  was  young  and  generous;  and  had  been 
brought  up  in  the  lavish  hospitality  of  a  Highland 
home,  even  though  a  poor  one.  And  she  had  in 
herited  from  her  father,  and  been  taught  by  Du- 
gald,  the  sacred  rights  of  the  stranger.  Besides 
all  this,  Helen  was  angry,  and  angry  people  are 
always  unjust.  Thus  she  chose  to  feel  herself  in 
sulted. 

"Why  didn't  she  tell  me  sooner?"  she  con 
tinued;  "to  let  me  go  on  thinking  I  had  found  a 
home,  and  then  to  tell  me  I  was  homeless,  without 
a  moment's  preparation.  She  is  cruel ;  I  hate  her. 
Mr.  Ashton  said,  when  he  was  dying,  that  God 
would  watch  over  me,  that  he  had  prayed  for  me. 


CONQUEST    A.NT)    SACRIFICE.  69 

He  did  indeed!"  and  Helen  smiled  bitterly.  "My 
father  said  there  was  nothing  in  religion,  and  I 
believe  it:  if  there  is,  why  does  God  take  me  from 
a  good  home,  to  throw  me  alone  on  the  world?" 

Thus  Helen's  wicked  thoughts  ran  on,  till  over 
come  by  her  desolate  lot,  she  laid  her  head  on  a 
mossy  stone  and  wept. 

Poor  human  faith!  How  weak  it  is.  How 
hard  for  it  to  recognize  God's  guiding  hand  in 
sorrow,  as  well  as  in  joy. 

Helen  seldom  cried.  Light-hearted  and  gay, 
she  had  never,  until  now,  known  any  real  sorrow. 
But  now  she  wrept  aloud.  The  sound  of  her  sob 
bing  went  out  into  the  still  woods,  and  arrested 
the  footsteps  of  a  young  girl,  who  was  running 
along.  She  stopped  and  listened,  then  quickly 
drew  near.  It  was  Nora  Neville.  The  milk 
toast  had  been  partaken  of  with  great  relish ;  and 
then  Nora  had  made  a  very  nice  extra  quantity, 
of  the  remainder  of  the  milk,  and  taken  it  to  a 
little  hut,  that  stood  out  of  the  village,  for  the 
supper  of  poor  Mrs.  Dales,  their  washwoman, 
and  her  blind  boy.  Now,  Nora  was  hurrying  home, 
as  it  was  almost  dark,  when  Helen's  crying  arrested 
her.  She  was  obliged  to  stoop  down,  to  see  who 


70  HELEN   JVLA-CGREOOR;    OR,, 

it  was.  When  she  recognized  Helen,  she  was 
very  much  surprised.  She  sat  down  beside  her, 
and  asked  hi  the  gentlest  tone,  if  she  could  do  any 
thing  for  her. 

"  Nothing,"  was  the  cold  reply. 

Nora  arose  to  go  ;  but  hers  was  not  the  heart  to 
leave  any  one  in  trouble.  She  sat  down  again, 
and  putting  her  head  close  beside  Helen's,  she  said, — 

"  Do  tell  me  what  is  the  matter,  dear  Helen ; 
perhaps  I  can  help  you." 

There  was  no  resisting  such  tender  tones. 
Helen's  tears  ceased,  as  she  related  in  an  angry 
manner  her  wrongs.  Now  the  story  of  Helen's 
coming  to  BrookfielS,  had  been  known  in  the 
village  through  the  children  only;  and  they  had 
told  that  their  uncle  had  brought  Helen  over  for 
their  ma.  This  was  the  story  Nora  had  heard 
from  Gussie ;  and  she  now  thought  it  very  hard 
of  Mrs.  Rellim's  brother  to  abandon  Helen  thus. 
She  also  thought  that  Mrs.  Rellim  might  have 
kept  her.  But  Nora  had  early  been  taught  that 
God  directs  everything,  and  she  was  about  saying 
so,  when  Helen  exclaimed, 

"  I  hate  her,  so  I  do ;  I'd  rather  starve,  than 
live  there  now." 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  71 

Nora  was  so  shocked,  she  almost  rose  up  to  go, 
but  checking  herself,  she  said, 

"Oh,  Helen,  please  don't  say  that;  it  is  so 
wicked.  The  Bible  says  we  should  love  every 
body." 

"  I  cannot  help  it.  It  was  very  heartless  of  her 
to  turn  me  away,  with  no  place  to  go  to." 

"  Perhaps  she  may  have  had  some  good  reason," 
suggested  Nora,  timidly. 

"Some  good  reason!"  repeated  Helen,  con 
temptuously.  "  If  you  are  going  to  take  her  part, 
don't  stay  here,  I'd  rather  not  hear  it." 

Nora  rose;  she  felt  hurt  and  indignant  at 
Helen's  tone ;  but  this  feeling  only  lasted  a  mo 
ment.  She  remembered  that  Helen  was  angry, 
and  did  not  think  what  she  was  saying ;  so  with 
true  Christian  forgiveness,  she  sat  down  again,  and 
said  gently, 

"  Dear  Helen,  you  are  in  trouble ;  mother  says, 
when  anything  worries  us,  or  we  don't  know 
what  to  do,  we  ought  to  ask  God's  help." 

"  He  could  help  me  without  my  asking  him,  if 
he  wished  to,"  gloomily  answered  Helen. 

"  Yes,  he  could,"  said  Nora,  "  but  he  wishes  us 
to  ask  him  for  what  we  want." 


72  HELEN"   IH ACGKEtEQOR, ;    OR,, 

"I  don't  know  how,"  was  the  discouraging 
reply. 

"  I  know,"  said  Nora,  in  a  low,  timid  tone,  "  I 
know  it  seems  hard  at  first,  but  it  is  easy,  indeed 
it  is ;  just  kneel  down  and  ask  God  to  teach  you 
what  to  do,  to  find  a  home,  and  to  take  care  of 
you,  for  Christ  Jesus,  his  dear  Son's  sake." 

"Do  you  think  he  would  hear  me?"  asked 
Helen,  with  a  newly  awakened  interest. 

"  Mother  says,  God  always  listens  to  our 
prayers,  if  we  pray  in  earnest,  and  ask  the  blessing 
for  Christ's  sake." 

"  I  cannot  do  it,"  said  Helen,  after  thinking 
a  while.  "  You  pray,  Nora." 

But  this  Nora  could  not  do.  Many  young 
girls,  who  are  truly  religious,  find  it  difficult  to 
speak  of  their  hopes  ;  and  almost  all  find  it  impos 
sible  to  pray  aloud.  They  are  frightened  at  the 
sound  of  their  own  voices,  and  the  simple  petitions 
they  utter  to  God  alone,  they  feel  ashamed  of  be 
fore  their  fellow-Christians.  Nora  looked  trou 
bled  at  Helen's  request,  and  then  she  said  slowly, — 

"  I  don't  think  I  could  pray  aloud,  Helen,  dear. 
But  see,  it  is  getting  so  dark,  mother  will  be  wor 
ried.  I  will  go  home,  and  tell  her  all  about  it ; 


CONQUEST    A.ND    SACRIFICE.  73 

she  will  pray  for  you,  Helen.  And  if  you  could 
come  around  to-morrow  morning,  perhaps  mother 
could  tell  you  what  to  do.  Could  you  ?" 

"Yes,  thank  you,  I  will  come,"  said  Helen, 
feeling  somewhat  comforted  that  some  one  was 
taking  an  interest  in  her. 

Kind  words !  how  cheering  they  are ;  how  lit 
tle  they  cost.  "Why  are  we  so  chary  of  them  ? 

Nora  started,  and  then  came  back.  "Won't  you 
go  home  now  ?  It  is  getting  so  dark." 

"  I  have  no  home." 

"  Go  back  to  Mrs.  Rellim's  then ;  do,  please ; 
it  is  so  late." 

All  Helen's  better  feelings  awoke,  at  this  tender 
solicitude,  and  jumping  up,  she  threw  her  arms 
round  Nora,  and  gave  her  a  hearty  kiss,  saying, 

"  You  are  a  sweet,  good  girl ;  I  love  you.  I 
will  go  back,  even  to  Mrs.  Rellim's,  to  please  you." 

Nora  returned  the  embrace,  and  the  two 
hastened  along  the  road,  and  parted  at  the  lane, 
Nora  saying, 

"  Don't  forget  to-morrow  morning." 

When  Nora  reached  home,  she  found  her 
mother  and  sister  at  the  end  of  the  garden  walk, 
anxiously  looking  for  her. 


74  HELEN   MA.C&REQOR. ;   OR, 

"  Oh,  mother,  dear,  do  forgive  me  for  worrying 
you.  I  did  not  intend  to  stay  so  late,  but  I  met 
Helen  MacGregor,  the  Scotch  girl,  in  the  woods, 
and  oh,  mother,  don't  you  think  Mrs.  Rellim  has 
told  her  she  must  find  another  home,  she  can't 
keep  her." 

All  this  Nora  panted  forth,  almost  out  of  breath, 
for  she  had  run  nearly  all  the  way  home. 

"  There,  dear  child,  wait  a  moment,  until  you 
are  a  little  rested,  and  then  we  will  hear  all  about 
it,"  said  Mrs.  Neville,  kindly,  "but  don't  stay 
out  so  late  another  time,  for  such  a  cause,  my 
daughter." 

"  Oh,  Nora,  mother  was  so  worried,"  said  Bar 
bara,  "  we  were  just  going  to  look  for  you." 

"Dear  mother,"  said  Nora,  while  the  tears 
started  to  her  eyes,  and  she  kissed  her,  "  I  am  so 
very  sorry.  But  poor  Helen  was  crying  so  much." 
And  Nora  then  proceeded  to  relate  Helen's  ac 
count  of  her  dismissal.  But  of  her  anger,  she  said 
nothing.  Mrs.  Neville  had  taught  her  children 
from  early  childhood,  never  to  tell  unkind  things 
of  any  one ;  and  to  such  things,  the  girls  well 
knew  their  mother  never  listened. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it,  mother  ?"  asked  Bar- 


CONQUEST    ANX)    SACRIFICE.  75 

bara.  "  I  think  it  very  unkind  of  her  brother  to 
bring  Helen  here,  and  then  leave  her." 

"There  are  always  two  sides  to  a  story,  Bar 
bara  ;  perhaps  Helen  has  done  something  which 
Mrs.  Rellim  thinks  justifies  her  in  dismissing 
her." 

"Oh,  no,  indeed,  mother;  she  didn't  do  any 
thing,"  said  Nora,  eagerly,  "  she  said  so." 

Mrs.  Neville  did  not  reply ;  she  seemed  lost  in 
thought,  which  the  children  did  not  interrupt  for 
some  time,  until  Nora  said,  looking  wistfully  into 
her  mother's  face,  "  If  we  only  could,  mother." 

"Yes,  if  we  only  could,  Nora;  I  have  been 
thinking  of  it,  but  it  seems  impossible." 

"  Thinking  of  what  ?"  asked  Barbara. 

"  Of  taking  Helen  here,"  said  Nora.  "  Don't 
you  think  we  could  manage  it,  mother?" 

"Not  without  some  self-sacrifice.  You  know 
we  have  only  an  annuity  to  live  on,  and  we  must 
not  go  beyond  that,  and  we  use  it  all  at  present. 
We  might  take  her,  indeed,  if  she  never  wanted 
clothes,"  added  Mrs.  Neville,  smiling. 

"  Or,  mother,  if  her  clothes  were  like  those  of 
the  children  of  Israel  in  the  wilderness,  and  lasted 
forty  years,"  said  Barbara,  laughing. 


76  HELEN    MACGKREGKDR;    OR, 

"Oh,  mother,  I  have  it,"  said  Nora,  clapping 
her  hands,  "  you  know  you  always  buy  us  each 
two  winter  dresses,  and  two  summer  ones ;  now, 
why  can't  we  do  with  one  apiece,  and  wear  our 
old  ones  longer?" 

"  Somehow  you  generally  manage  to  wear  your 
old  ones  shorter,  instead  of  longer,"  said  her 
mother,  smiling. 

"Well,  after  this,  I'll  try  and  wear  mine 
longer,"  said  Barbara,  "  if  you  think  that  will  do, 
mother." 

"  That  will  do  for  dresses,  certainly ;  but  young 
girls  wear  shoes  and  stockings,  and  under-clothes, 
and  hats,  &c." 

"  Well,  divide  those  too,"  said  Nora,  "  besides, 
mother,  you  forget  you  will  have  the  extra  money 
for  one  dress  always  to  buy  things  with ;  for  in 
stead  of  getting  four  dresses  every  time,  you'll 
only  have  to  buy  three." 

"  Well,  it  seems  you  are  determined  to  have  it 
so.  And  yet,  my  dear  girls,  I  do  not  want  you 
to  decide  now.  What  you  are  making  up  your 
mind  to,  is  not  the  work  of  a  week,  or  of  a  month, 
but  the  sacrifice  of  self  for  years.  I  want  you  to 
count  well  the  cost;  there  will  be  no  retreating 


CONQUEST   AJSTD   SACRIFICE.  77 

when  Helen  is  once  here.  And  you  both  know 
enough  not  to  enter  into  such  a  pledge,  without 
asking  the  guidance  and  help  of  the  Giver  of  all 
good  intentions,  and  the  Upholder  of  all  good 
purposes.  Then,  too,  there  will  be  a  double 
watchfulness  to  keep  over  your  conduct.  You 
are  Christ's  children ;  you  have  become  members 
of  his  visible  church  here  on  earth.  In  the  inti 
mate  communion  of  daily  life,  you  must  show 
your  young  companion  that  you  are  not  your  own  ; 
that  you  have  been  bought  with  a  price,  even 
'the  precious  blood  of  Christ,'  lest  you  should 
place  a  stumbling-block  in  the  way  of  one  who 
will  judge  of  Christianity  by  the  ways  of  those 
around  her.  Pray  earnestly  for  strength  to  do 
this,  my  daughters,  and  trusting  in  Almighty  power 
to  help,  you  will  not  fail." 

Already  Nora  and  Barbara  almost  felt  ready  to 
give  up,  at  the  responsible  light  in  which  their 
mother  put  it.  But  youth  is  hopeful,  and  as  their 
mother  sent  them  off  to  bed,  they  followed  her  ad 
vice,  and  prayed  with  sincere  and  simple  faith,  for 
help  to  sacrifice  all  selfishness  on  the  altar  of  pure 
charity. 
7  * 


VI. 

A.   NEW  HOME. 

"If  we  knew  the  clouds  above  us 

Held  by  gentle  blessings  there  ; 
.  Would  we  turn  away  all  trembling 

In  our  blind  and  weak  despair  ? 
Would  we  shrink  from  little  shadows 

Lying  on  the  dewy  grass, 
When  'tis  only  birds  of  Eden, 
Just  in  mercy  flying  past  ?" 

"  TV/TETHER  dear,   have  you    made  up  your 
-L'J-  mind?"  was   Nora's  first  question  on  the 
following  morning. 

"  Have  you  ?"  asked  her  mother. 
"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am,  we  both  have,"  said  Barbara. 
"  I  will  tell  you  what  I  think  when  I  get  back, 
as  I  am  going  round  to  Mrs.  Bellini's  after  break 
fast." 

"  Why  mother,  I  told  Helen  to  come  here." 
"  Did  you  ?  well  then,  if  she  comes,  keep  her 
here  until  I  get  back." 

78 


CONQUEST    A.N3J    SACRIITICE.  79 

"  Mother,  shall  we  go  in  the  study,  and  com 
mence  our  lessons  ?" 

"  No :  I  shall  only  be  gone  a  little  while,  and 
you  will  have  enough  to  do  to  finish  the  dishes, 
and  the  rest  of  the  work." 

Nora  and  Barbara  could  talk  of  nothing  but 
Helen,  during  their  mother's  absence,  and  they 
laid  out  most  delightful  plans,  in  which  everything 
went  just  as  they  wished,  and  nothing  disagreeable 
ever  entered;  and  they  calculated  largely  on  Hel 
en's  being  a  perfect  character. 

Mrs.  Neville  was  a  lady  dearly  loved  in  the 
village  in  which  she  resided,  a  truly  noble  woman; 
and  few  doors  ever  opened  to  her  without  a  smile 
of  welcome.  Mrs.  Rellim  had  formerly  visited 
her;  and  the  children,  that  is  John,  Mary  and 
Augusta,  had  been  almost  daily  visitors  at  Mrs. 
Neville's  cottage.  But  Mrs.  Neville  soon  found 
that  such  rude,  wicked  children  were  not  just  the 
companions  for  her  girls.  She  had  at  first  allowed 
them  to  return  at  long  intervals  the  children's  fre 
quent  calls ;  but  they  usually  came  home  in  such 
a  sorry  plight,  from  John's  mischievous  pranks,  or 
from  the  children's  quarrels,  that  she  afterwards 
kept  them  away  entirely.  At  this  Mrs.  Rellim 


80  HELETT    MACGHREQ-OR, ;    OR, 

chose  to  take  offence,  pretending  to  believe  that 
Mrs.  Neville  considered  her  children  superior  to 
any  one  else's.  She  dropped  Mrs.  Neville's  ac 
quaintance,  and  forbade  her  children  going  there. 
All  this  considered,  it  was  anything  but  pleasant 
to  Mrs.  Neville  to  call  there.  But  self  never 
stood  in  her  way  when  there  was  a  duty  to  be 
performed.  She  yearned  over  the  desolate  Helen, 
so  far  from  her  own  home;  and  she  longed 
to  take  her  to  her  own  warm  heart;  but  Mrs. 
Neville  knew  well  the  angry  impatience  of  many 
children;  and  she  preferred  hearing  from  Mrs. 
Rellim's  own  lips  whether  she  wished  to  part  with 
Helen,  and  her  reasons  for  doing  so. 

The  interview  was  cold  and  short.  Mrs.  Ne 
ville,  with  a  Christian  spirit,  strove  to  be  cordial 
and  kind,  but  Mrs.  Rellim  gave  her  to  under 
stand  that  a  few  words  on  the  business  subject 
about  which  she  had  called  were  all  that  would 
be  acceptable. 

Mrs.  Neville  found  that  everything  was  just  as 
Helen  had  stated  it ;  and  she  determined  to  give 
the  lonely  stranger  a  home. 

Just  as  Mrs.  Neville  stepped  out  of  the  door, 
she  fell  over  a  string  which  John  had  tied  across 


"  She  dropped  the  pitcher  over  as  gently  as  possible."  p.  133. 


CONQUEST    A.NT>    SACRIFICE.  81 

it  for  the  express  purpose  of  tripping  her  up. 
Providentially  she  did  not  hurt  herself,  only  jarred 
her  head  considerably,  which  gave  her  a  headache 
for  the  rest  of  the  day.  John,  who  was  hidden 
behind  some  bushes,  at  a  little  distance,  lay  down 
on  the  grass  and  rolled  over  and  over  with 
laughter. 

Just  at  that  moment  Helen  was  carrying  a 
bucket  of  water  into  the  yard,  for  Gussie  to  water 
her  flowers  with.  She  did  not  know  who  the 
lady  was,  but  she  had  seen  John  laughing,  and 
knew  it  was  some  of  his  mischief.  Helen  at 
home  had  always  been  taught  politeness,  and  such 
a  rude  action  disgusted  her. 

"Very  well,  Master  John,  'it's  a  poor  rule  that 
won't  work  both  ways,' "  .she  said,  as  she  came  up 
to  where  he  was  lying  laughing;  and  without  a 
moment's  hesitation  she  emptied  the  bucket  of 
water  over  him.  John's  laughter  instantly  turned 
into  anger ;  he  jumped  up  and  ran,  but  it  was  in 
vain ;  Helen  had  foreseen  the  consequences,  and  in 
stantly  throwing  down  the  empty  bucket,  made  for 
the  house.  She  reached  her  room,  and  locked  the 
door,  just  as  John  gave  a  vigorous  kick  against  it. 
Notwithstanding  his  wet  clothes,  John  continued  at 


82  HELEN    MACGKREGOR,;    OR, 

the  door  waiting  for  Helen  to  come  out.  But 
although  Helen  was  very  anxious  to  fulfil  her 
promise  to  Nora,  and  very  much  worried  as  to 
what  she  should  do,  she  knew  John's  violent  tem 
per  too  well  to  venture  out  until  his  wrath  had 
cooled.  Thus  Nora  waited  in  vain  at  the  little 
gate  for  her  expected  guest. 

Mrs.  Rellim  had  promised  that  Helen  should 
come  round  that  very  afternoon,  if  she  wished  to 
accept  Mrs.  Neville's  offer;  but  she  did  not  think 
it  worth  while  to  send  for  Helen,  on  purpose  to 
tell  her.  So  she  did  not  mention  it  until  dinner 
time. 

Helen,  with  the  quick  fancy  of  youth,  had  taken 
a  strong  liking  to  Nora  the  evening  before ;  and  it 
delighted  her  to  think  of  living  with  her.  Some 
one,  it  seems,  really  did  wish  for  her.  She  had  felt 
the  whole  morning  as  though  no  one  cared  for 
her,  and  as  if  everybody  was  anxious  to  get  rid  of 
her.  A  load  was  lifted  from  her  heart. 

This  was  the  first  time  the  children  had  heard 
that  Helen  was  to  leave ;  they  were  all  surprised, 
and  some  were  sorry. 

"  And  you  are  going  to  live  at  Neville's  ?"  said 
Mary,  curling  her  lip,  "  I  don't  envy  you.  They 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  83 

don't  keep  any  servant,  and  you'll  have  to  run 
errands,  as  Nora  does." 

Helen's  cheek  flushed  with  shame,  and  a  pain 
shot  through  her  heart,  as  she  thought,  "  I  expect 
they  are  quite  poor,  and  live  in  a  mean  house.  I 
won't  go  live  there,  and  have  to  work."  But  the 
next  instant  the  bitter  thought  came  that  she  had 
nowhere  else  to  go.  And  she  looked  with  regret 
on  the  splendid  dining-room,  and  the  silver  and 
the  glass  on  the  luxuriously  furnished  table. 

After  dinner,  when  Helen  was  packing  up  her 
box,  Gussie  came  in  and  slipped  into  her  hand  a 
very  pretty  copy  of  Robinson  Crusoe. 

"  Take  it,  Helen,  I'm  so  sorry  you  are  going 
away ;  keep  it,  to  make  you  think  about  me ;  for 
I'll  never  hardly  get  to  see  you  any  more." 

Gussie  began  to  cry;  and  the  tears  came  to 
Helen's  eyes  as  she  took  the  book. 

"  I  cannot  read  it,  Gussie ;  you  keep  it." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  don't  want  it ;  you  will  soon  learn, 
now  you  are  going  there.  Oh,  but  you  will  like 
it,  Helen,  they  are  all  so  nice ;  and  you  will  be 
with  Nora,  too." 

"  I'm  very  much  obliged,  Gussie,"  said  Helen, 
as  she  turned  over  the  leaves  of  the  handsome 


84  HELEN"   3VE.A.CG!-:REGK>R.;    OR, 

book;  "when  I  learn  to  read  it,  you  can  come 
down,  and  we  will  read  it  together." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  come  and  see  you ;  ma  won't  let 
us." 

Helen's  cheeks  again  crimsoned.  "It  is  be 
cause  they  are  so  poor,"  she  thought ;  "  I  wish,  oh 
how  I  wish,  I  had  somewhere  else  to  go." 

Harboring  such  thoughts  Helen  was  in  no  very 
good  humor  to  look  at  her  new  home.  She  gazed 
wistfully  around  on  every  gay  and  handsome 
thing,  from  the  rose-colored  curtains  to  the  luxu 
rious  carpet,  and  sighed  as  she  looked  at  them  for 
the  last  time. 

Ah,  Helen !  Where  were  the  grateful  thoughts 
that  should  have  filled  your  heart  that  God  had 
not  left  you  desolate,  but  had  in  your  hour  of  need 
raised  up  kind  friends?  And  then,  too,  were 
there  no  thanks  due  to  the  strangers  who,  unasked, 
had  volunteered  their  help?  As  to  the  trouble 
and  expense  she  might  be,  Helen  was  too  little  ac 
customed  to  life's  responsibilities  to  think  of  them. 

In  the  meantime,  a  joyful  welcome  was  pre 
paring  for  the  ungrateful  Helen,  in  Mrs.  Neville's 
neat  cottage.  Barbara  and  Nora  had  a  half  holi 
day  for  the  occasion.  Helen  was  to  occupy  a 


CONQUEST    .A-ND    SACRIFICE.  85 

room  next  to  theirs;  and  busy  hands  had  been 
making  it  as  pretty  as  possible.  There  was  a 
communicating  door  between  the  two  rooms,  and 
the  girls  had  quite  rejoiced  over  the  fact,  thinking 
that  when  they  became  quite  intimate  they  could 
always  have  it  open. 

Barbara  had  tied  the  white  curtains  back  with 
some  pink  ribbon,  to  match  the  ribbon  in  their 
room ;  and  Nora  had  gathered  all  her  choicest 
flowers  into  a  fragrant  bouquet,  which,  to  make  it 
look  still  more  charming,  she  had  placed  in  a 
white  marble  vase  that  her  Aunt  Stella  had  given 
her,  and  that  usually  stood  in  the  parlor,  but  was 
now  taken  out  to  grace  the  dressing  bureau  of 
"  Helen's  room,"  as  Nora  already  called  it. 

When  everything  was  finished  that  could  possi 
bly  be  done,  they  washed  and  dressed  themselves ; 
and  as  Barbara's  hair  was  very  long  and  thick, 
Nora  plaited  one  side,  while  she  herself  did  the 
other,  for  fear  they  would  not  be  ready  by  the 
time  Helen  came.  Then  they  went  to  take  a  last 
look  at  the  room. 

"  Don't  it  look  lovely  ?"  asked  Nora. 

"  Yes,  it  does  look  nice,"  said  the  less  enthusias 
tic  Barbara,  "  of  course  it  don't  look  anything  like 


86  HELEN"    MA-OOREOOR;    OR, 

as  large  and  grand  as  the  bed-rooms  at  Mrs.  Rel- 
lim's,  but  it  is  so  comfortable,  and  clean,  and 
pretty,  that  I  shouldn't  think  Helen  would  care." 

"Oh,  she  won't  care,"  answered  Nora;  "why, 
what's  the  difference  where  we  sleep,  if  we  only 
sleep  soundly  ?" 

Thus  saying  she  ran  down  stairs,  followed  by 
Barbara.  It  was  four  o'clock,  and  the  garden  was 
warm  and  sunny,  so  they  sat  down  on  the  porch — 
Barbara  with  a  book,  and  Nora  with  some  knit 
ting.  Mrs.  Neville  had  gone  to  see  a  sick  neigh 
bor.  The  visit  was  one  that  she  had  wished  to 
pay  at  some  time,  but  she  chose  that  particular 
afternoon,  because  she  knew  young  girls  get  ac 
quainted  sooner  when  there  are  no  grown  people 
about;  and  she  thought  if  Helen  were  shown 
around  her  new  home  by  Barbara  and  Nora,  she 
would  feel  more  at  ease,  and  be  sooner  contented. 

An  hour  passed  away ;  Barbara  had  not  raised 
her  eyes  from  her  book  j  for  reading  was  Barbara's 
great  passion,  and  even  Helen,  for  the  time,  was 
forgotten.  Not  so  with  Nora ;  she  had  gone  down 
to  the  gate,  and  looked  wistfully  up  the  road,  at 
least  half  a  dozen  times.  She  did  not  wish  to  in 
terrupt  her  sister,  knowing  well  that  Barbara  did 


CONQUKST    A.NZ>    SACRIFICE.  87 


not  like  to  be  disturbed  when  she  was  reading,  but 
after  a  while,  she  could  keep  quiet  no  longer. 

"  Barbara,  I  don't  believe  she  is  coming  this 
afternoon,  —  do  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is  early  yet." 

"  Early  !     Why  it  is  five  o'clock." 

"  Is  it  really  five  o'clock  ?  I  did  not  know  it 
was  so  late.  Mother  will  be  home  soon.  Did 
you  put  on  the  tea-kettle  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  I  forgot  it.  I'm  so  glad  you  told  me, 
Barbara." 

Nora  put  on  the  tea-kettle,  and  Barbara  went 
on  with  her  book.  Mrs.  Neville  came  home,  and 
still  Helen  had  not  come. 

"  Perhaps  she  will  come  to-morrow  morning," 
said  Mrs.  Neville,  cheerfully. 

But  Nora  and  Barbara  were  very  much  disap 
pointed.  Nora  set  the  tea-table  very  quietly,  with 
none  of  her  usual  merry  comments.  Mrs.  Neville 
baked  the  short-cakes  which  were  just  done  to  a 
turn,  as  Nora,  almost  dropping  a  glass  dish  she 
held,  exclaimed, 

"  There  she  is  !" 

And  she  was  out  of  the  room,  and  down  the 
walk  almost  before  Mrs.  Neville  could  turn  round. 


88  HELEN    M ACG-IiEGS-OR, ;    OR, 

With  a  slow  step,  and  scanning  eye,  Helen  en 
tered  the  gravel  walk.  For  the  last  hour  she  had 
been  sitting  in  the  woods,  spending  her  time  in 
useless  regrets  and  vain  murmurings  at  her  lot. 
She  had  bid  good-bye,  she  said  to  herself,  to  a 
luxurious  life  of  ease  and  wealth,  and  she  was  in 
no  hurry  to  bury  herself  in  a  poor  cottage  where 
she  would  have  to  work  like  a  servant.  One 
thing  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to :  she  would 
get  Mrs.  Neville  to  write  at  once  to  her  father  to 
send  for  her  to  come  home.  Thus  filled  with  re 
bellious  thoughts,  Helen's  mind  was  lingering  in 
the  dim  old  woods,  as  she  slowly  approached  the 
house.  Nora's  cordial  welcome,  and  her  evident 
regret  that  she  did  not  come  sooner,  made  Helen 
feel  ashamed.  Nora  introduced  her  to  her  mother 
and  Barbara,  and  they  both  received  her  with  so 
much  warmth  and  pleasure  that  Helen's  heart 
softened  yet  more. 

Nora  led  her  up  stairs  to  take  off  her  things, 
and  told  her  that  that  was  to  be  her  own  room. 
The  snowy  bed,  and  white  curtains,  and  the  sweet 
breath  of  the  flowers,  all  spoke  to  Helen  of  peace 
ful  days  and  domestic  joys ;  but  her  mind  would 
wander  with  regret  to  the  room  she  had  left. 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  89 

As  Helen  sat  down  to  the  well-laid  table,  she 
acknowledged  to  herself  that  there  was  an  air  of 
refinement  over  everything,  that  was  wanting  in 
Mrs.  Rellim's  statelier  mansion. 

The  table  cloth  was  of  the  purest  linen,  the 
dishes  white  and  shining.  Strawberries  blushed  in 
a  handsome  cut-glass  dish ;  and  cake  lay  in  delicious 
niceness  in  a  silver  basket.  These  were  all  relics 
of  more  prosperous  days. 

Helen  looked  round ;  everything  was  furnished 
tastefully  and  well ;  and  even  the  rough  fact  of 
baking  cakes  Mrs.  Neville  performed  with  a  lady 
like  grace  that  astonished  Helen,  accustomed  as 
she  had  been  to  the  coarse  manners  of  the  servants 
at  Mrs.  Eellim's. 

When  supper  was  over  Nora  almost  hid  her 
self  in  a  large  check  apron,  which  fastened  around 
the  neck  with  a  string,  and  came  down  to  the  bot 
tom  of  her  dress.  She  laughed  merrily  as  she 
looked  down  at  herself,  and  Helen  joined  in  the 
laugh. 

"  You  see,"  said  Nora,  "  it  is  my  week  in  the 
kitchen,  and  so  I  am  going  to  wash  the  dishes 
now,"  and  she  proceeded  to  pour  water  out  of  the 
kettle  into  the  dish  pan. 


90  HELE3ST    MACGHREGfOR.;    OR,, 

Mrs.  Neville  took  the  work  basket  and  com 
menced  darning  some  stockings,  and  Barbara  sat 
down  in  the  open  door-way.  The  merry  manner 
in  which  Nora  went  to  work  seemed  to  take  away 
the  fact  that  it  was  work  at  all.  Helen  expected 
to  be  disgusted  with  the  "  servants'  work,"  as  she 
imitated  Mary  Rellim  in  saying,  but  she  found 
herself  laughing  quite  as  heartily  as  the  rest,  when 
Nora,  in  her  excitement,  wiped  a  dish  carefully, 
and  then  put  it  back  in  the  pan  of  water! 

When  all  was  finished,  Nora  took  off  her  apron, 
and  with  Helen  and  Barbara  went  into  the  gar 
den. 

First  they  visited  the  flower  garden  in  front  of 
the  house, — a  perfect  wilderness  of  beauty.  Hoses 
bloomed  on  all  sides,  from  the  crimson  petals  of 
the  damask,  to  the  snowy  blossoms  of  the  acacia. 
Heliotrope,  sweet  alyssum,  mignonette,  white  lilies, 
and  the  sweet  brier  laded  the  air  with  perfume. 
Helen  was  delighted.  She  loved  flowers  in 
tensely;  and  as  she  bent  over  to  inhale  their 
sweetness,  tears  sprang  into  her  eyes.  Helen  once 
again  saw  the  green  hills  of  her  own  dear  land. 
Oh,  the  subtile  power  of  a  perfume  to  carry  mem 
ory  back  to  sunny  haunts  of  other  days !  Helen's 


CON-QUEST    A.NT)    SACRIFICE.  91 

heart  went  forth  in  vague,  wild  yearnings  for  her 
absent  home. 

Nora  and  Barbara  saw  the  tears,  but  were  too 
considerate  to  notice  them  in  words;  only  Nora 
gently  put  her  arm  around  her,  and  said,  gaily, 

"  This  is  my  bed  over  here,  and  that  is  Bar 
bara's.  Mother  lets  us  plant  just  what  we  wish." 

It  was  curious  to  note  the  difference  in  the  two 
flower-beds.  Barbara's  contained  only  a  few  flow 
ers,  but  those  were  very  choice ;  while  Nora's  held 
in  it  a  little  of  everything.  There  was  some 
chick-weed  in  one  corner,  because  Nora  always 
supplied  the  birds  in  the  village  with  it ;  a  few 
flowers  and  various  kinds  of  herbs  which  Nora 
dried  and  put  away  in  bundles,  because  poor  peo 
ple  were  always  wanting  them. 

After  Helen  had  duly  admired  all  these,  they 
went  to  the  vegetable  garden  at  the  back  of  the 
cottage.  Here  Mrs.  Neville  usually  raised  all  the 
vegetables  necessary  for  their  own  use.  Her  hus 
band  had  been  a  physician,  with  a  lucrative  prac 
tice  ;  but  cut  off  suddenly  hi  early  life  by  an  epi 
demic  fever,  he  had  left  only  a  small  annuity  to 
support  his  wife  and  two  children.  Mrs.  Neville 
had  moved  into  this  small  cottage,  and  by  strict 


92  HELEN    MA-CGKREGOR;    OK,, 

economy  managed  to  keep  a  comfortable  home. 
Mr.  Nelson,  their  landlord,  a  rich  bachelor  who 
had  been  an  intimate  friend  of  her  husband's,  sent 
his  own  gardener  each  spring  to  prepare  the 
ground  and  plant  the  vegetables,  as  well  as  to 
superintend  it  once  in  a  while.  Helen  not  know 
ing  this,  was  surprised  at  the  size  and  perfection 
of  everything ;  and  she  was  just  going  to  ask  about 
it,  when  Mrs.  Neville's  voice  was  heard  calling 
them  to  come  in. 

It  was  the  time  for  evening  worship.  Mrs. 
Neville  read  a  chapter  in  the  Bible,  and  they  all 
knelt  down  while  she  offered  a  fervent  prayer. 
In  that  prayer  Helen  was  not  forgotten.  Thanks 
were  given  to  God  for  having  found  a  home  for 
the  stranger.  Earnest  supplication  was  made  that 
they  might  all  live  happily  together  as  a  Christian 
family  j  and  that  Helen  might  ere  long  be  gathered 
as  a  lamb  to  the  fold  of  Christ. 

When  Helen  retired  that  night,  the  room  and 
its  contents  were  forgotten  in  the  recollection  of 
that  solemn  prayer.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life 
she  thought  seriously  of  God  and  religion.  Could 
it  be  possible,  she  thought,  that  it  was  the  great 
God  who  had  found  that  home  for  her  ?  "  Ah," 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  93 

she  continued  aloud,  "old  Margie  would  say  it 
was  my  good  luck  ;•  but  Mr.  Ashton  said  there 
was  no  such  thing;  I  wonder  which  is  right? 
TJiey  are.  I  feel  they  are ;  it  must  have  been  God 
directed  me  here.  And  I — I'm  sure  I  did  not 
want  to  come.  I  do  not  want  to  stay.  Mrs. 
Neville  told  me  to  thank  him  to-night ;  but  I  will 
not,  I  am  not  contented." 

Helen  went  to  the  looking-glass  and  began 
taking  down  her  hair;  she  smiled  back  at  the 
pretty  face  it  reflected ;  but  all  she  could  do  she 
could  not  avoid  hearing  the  whispers  of  conscience, 
nor  still  the  cry  of  an  awaking  spirit. 

While  these  thoughts  were  passing  through 
Helen's  mind,  Barbara  and  Nora  in  the  next  room 
were  also  preparing  for  bed. 

"What  do  you  think  of  her,  Barbara?  Isn't 
she  lovely  ?" 

"  Yes,  she  is  very  pretty ;  she  puts  me  in  mind 
of  the  picture  of  Grace  Hawthorne,  in  the  Sunday- 
school  book  we  were  reading." 

"  Oh,  she  is  much  prettier  than  the  picture  of 
Grace,  for  don't  you  remember  Grace  looked  as  if 
she  had  crooked  eyes,  and  how  we  laughed  at  it  ? 
I  wonder  if  Helen  is  as  good  ?  I  wonder  if  she'll 


94  HELEN 

blot  her  copy-book,  or  lose  her  slate-pencils  as  I 
do,"  continued  Nora,  sitting  on  the  floor  in  her 
night  dress,  with  her  hands  clasped  round  her 
knees. 

"Nora,  you've  not  read  yet;  and  you  know 
mother  don't  like  us  to  keep  the  light  burning." 

"  Oh,  I  forgot,"  said  Nora,  jumping  up  and 
taking  her  little  Bible,  "  I  guess  she'll  be  like  you 
Barbara,  so  careful." 

"  Hush,  Nora,  how  can  I  read  ?" 

"Just  one  question,  Barbara,  dear;  you  know 
after  I  have  read  and  said  my  prayers,  I  can't 
speak.  Do  you  think  she'll  ever  wear  her 
Scotch  dress?" 

Barbara  made  no  answer,  and  with  a  sigh 
of  disappointment  Nora  opened  her  Bible  and 
began  to  read.  But  she  was  not  as  attentive 
as  usual  that  night;  and  even  after  they  were 
in  bed  she  broke  one  of  her  mother's  rules  by 
whispering  the  question  again  to  Barbara.  Bar 
bara  only  gave  her  a  push  with  her  arm,  and 
Nora,  sorry  for  having  spoken,  turned  over,  and 
tried  to  sleep. 


VII. 

TSJE  DOJtCAS  SOCIETY. 

"I  would  not  that  life's  changing  sky 

Should  know  no  cloudy  weather, 
That  shadows  fall  not  on  the  heart, 

But  sunlight  altogether; 
The  blossoms  on  the  brow  of  May 

Are  born  of  April  showers, 
And  shall  we  be  too  wise  to  learn 

A  lesson  from  the  flowers?" 

PjEVERAL  days  passed  away,  and  Helen  was 
kj  beginning  to  feel  more  at  home.  She  found 
that  in  this  well-appointed  household,  each  one 
had  her  own  special  duties ;  and  that  everything 
was  systematized  in  such  a  way,  that  all  had  time 
for  work  and  play.  Mrs.  Neville  carried  out 
strictly  the  old  saying,  "a  place  for  everything, 
and  everything  in  its  place."  Which,  simple  rule 
that  it  is,  has  saved  many  a  fit  of  ill  humor  and 
impatience. 

Mrs.  Neville  had  given  Helen  a  small  Bible, 

95 


96  HEIuETs"    IMACOOREGOR;    Olt, 

exactly  like  Barbara's  and  Nora's,  and  a  flower 
bed  like  theirs  also.  Of  this  last,  Helen  thought 
and  cared  much  more  than  she  did  of  the  former. 
Each  morning  during  those  long  warm  days 
of  summer,  the  dressing-bell  rang  at  five  o'clock. 
One  week  Nora  washed  the  dishes,  set  the  table, 
and  helped  her  mother  in  the  kitchen,  while  Bar 
bara  made  the  beds,  and  attended  to  the  up  stairs 
work.  The  next  week  Barbara  took  the  down 
stairs  work,  and  Nora  the  up  stairs.  Then,  whose- 
ever  week  it  was  up  stairs,  weeded  in  the  gar 
den  half  an  hour  before  breakfast,  which  they 
ate  at  six  o'clock.  At  half  past  eight,  school 
opened.  Back  of  the  parlor  was  a  cheerful  room, 
fitted  up  as  a  school-room,  and  called  the  study. 
The  green  carpet,  green  blinds,  and  book-case,  had 
once  been  in  Dr.  Neville's  office.  Mrs.  Neville 
had  put  them  in  the  school-room,  thus  giving  it 
very  much  the  appearance  of  a  study. 

Mrs.  Neville  was  a  highly  educated  woman,  and 
she  preferred  teaching  her  girls  herself  to  sending 
them  to  the  school  on  the  hill.  Here  the  morning 
hours  were  passed  until  twelve  o'clock,  when 
school  was  over  for  the  day.  At  one  o'clock  they 
took  dinner;  and  from  twelve  to  one,  either  Bar- 


SACRIFICE.  97 

bara  or  Xora  practiced  her  music  lesson.  From 
two  to  three  was  the  study  hour.  From  three  to 
four  they  sewed.  Each  one  made  and  mended  her 
own  clothes,  with  Mrs.  Xeville's  assistance  and  di 
rection  ;  from  four,  until  bed-time,  they  could  do 
as  they  pleased.  This,  Helen  soon  learned,  was 
the  regular  order  of  the  day. 

So  far  she  had  not  been  asked  to  do  anything, 
and  it  pleased  her  well.  To  be  sure  she  did  feel 
ashamed  sometimes,  and  had  almost  made  up  her 
mind  to  offer  to  help;  but  she  was  still  thinking 
about  it.  She  had  been  given  her  seat  in  the 
study,  provided  with  books,  and  had  commenced 
studying  with  an  alacrity  that  pleased  Mrs.  Xe- 
ville. 

Everything  had  gone  on  very  smoothly;  the 
girls  were  finding  all  their  pleasant  anticipations 
realized,  and  were  learning  to  love  Helen  very 
much,  and  to  think  her  very  good. 

One  morning  as  Helen  awoke,  and  saw  the  sun 
shining  into  her  room  so  brightly,  she  jumped 
hastily  up.  saying, 

"  I  wonder  if  the  dressing-bell  has  rung  yet  ? 
It  is  Saturday  morning." 

But  her  doubts  were  instantly  dispelled  by  a  fu- 


98  HELEN    M ACGKRE&OR, ;    OR, 

rious  ringing,  and  Nora's  merry  voice  calling 
out, 

"Dressing-bell!     Dressing-bell!" 

Helen  put  her  head  out  of  the  door  to  join  her 
laugh,  and  cry  as  they  used  to  on  board  the  boat, 

"  Gentlemen  who  have  not  paid  for  their  tickets, 
will  please  step  up  to  the  Captain's  office  and 
settle."  Then  she  quickly  withdrew  her  head,  as 
Nora  pretended  to  throw  the  bell  up  at  her. 

"What  a  sweet  canny  darling  Nora  is,"  thought 
Helen,  as  she  was  dressing,  "she  turns  all  her 
tasks  into  happiness.  Now  it  is  her  week  in  the 
kitchen,  and  she  often  has  to  give  up  some  play 
that  she  enjoys  very  much,  to  go  and  set  the  table, 
or  get  the  milk,  and  she  never  seems  to  mind  it  at 
all.  Yes,  there  must  be  a  great  deal  in  religion. 
She  finds  so  much  comfort  in  her  prayers  and 
texts,  while  they  are  nothing  to  me;  perhaps  I 
shall  learn  some  day,"  and  with  a  sigh  half  merry, 
half  sad,  Helen  finished  dressing.  Then  she  put 
the  bed-clothes  on  a  chair  to  air,  and  opened  the 
window. 

"There,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  believe  that  is  just 
as  Barbara  told  me,"  and  she  turned  again  to  the 
window,  and  drank  in  the  sweet  morning  air,  laden 


CONQUEST    -A-ND    SACRIFICE.  99 

with  perfume,  and  filled  with  the  melody  of 
birds. 

"Oh,  how  I  wish  there  was  nothing  in  the 
whole  world  to  do  but  to  lie  down  under  green 
trees,  and  listen  to  the  birds  sing,  to  live  on  the 
breath  of  roses,  and  idle  away  long  summer  days 
in  mossy  dells,  and  beside  sparkling  waters.  Why 
must  life  be  full  of  work  and  study?" 

Helen  thus  dreamed  away  her  morning  half 
hour,  and  was  only  roused  by  Barbara's  voice 
singing  in  the  parlor  below.  Helen  ran  down 
quickly,  and  burst  into  a  merry  laugh,  as  Barbara, 
with  her  head  tied  up  in  a  towel,  and  a  dust-pan 
in  her  hand,  met  her  in  the  entry. 

"Well,  Barbara,  I  find  you  are  one  of  the  early 
birds  this  morning." 

"You  know  it  is  Saturday,"  said  Barbara,  "and 
I've  swept  the  parlor  already ;  now,  while  I'm  eat 
ing  my  breakfast,  the  dust  will  be  settling  nicely." 

Helen  looked  at  her  with  a  smile  and  a  sigh. 
The  smile  was  for  Barbara's  industry,  the  sigh  for 
her  own  idleness. 

After  breakfast  Mrs.  Neville  asked  Helen  if  she 
would  please  wash  the  dishes,  as  Barbara  was 
dusting  the  parlor,  Nora  sweeping  the  kitchen, 


100  HELEN"   M A.CG-REGOR ;    OR, 

preparatory  to  scrubbing  it,  and  she  herself  was 
going  to  market. 

Helen  answered,  "Yes,  ma'am,"  but  Mrs.  Ne 
ville  noticed  with  sorrow  the  flush  of  annoyance  on 
her  cheek,  and  her  discontented  look.  She  had 
undertaken  the  charge  of  Helen,  and  she  wished 
to  bring  her  up  exactly  as  she  would  if  she  were 
her  own  daughter.  She  had  allowed  her  several 
days  to  get  accustomed  to  things;  but  now  she 
wished  her  to  begin,  well  knowing  Helen  would 
feel  more  at  home  when  once  she  took  her  share  in 
the  domestic  affairs. 

Mrs.  Neville  took  no  notice  of  Helen's  ill  hu 
mor,  but  went  out.  As  soon  as  she  had  gone, 
Helen  sat  down  to  indulge  her  angry  thoughts. 
"She  didn't  like  to  work,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"she  hated  it,  and  she  didn't  intend  to  be  forever 
doing  it." 

Nora  peeped  her  curly  head  in  at  the  door  for  a 
moment,  to  ask  how  she  was  getting  along.  But 
seeing  Helen  seated  and  looking  so  glum,  she 
asked  what  was  the  matter. 

"Nothing,"  answered  Helen  coldly. 

"Dear  Helen,  it  must  be  something.  Can  I 
help  you?" 


CONQUEST    A.ND    SACRIFICE.  101 

"You  can  please  leave  me  alone,"  was  the  un 
gracious  answer. 

Nora  shut  the  door,  and  the  tears  stood  hi  her 
eyes  at  Helen's  unkind  manner.  This  was  the  first 
cloud  that  had  dimmed  their  pleasure  since  Helen's 
arrival.  Nora  remembered  her  mother's  caution, 
and  kneeling  down  in  the  kitchen  she  said  a  short 
prayer,  asking  God  to  help  Helen,  and  to  give  to 
her  own  heart  grace  to  overlook  all  unkindness. 

When  Helen  heard  Mrs.  Neville's  voice  in  the 
kitchen,  some  time  afterwards,  she  commenced 
washing  the  dishes,  and  having  finished  them,  she 
went  up  to  her  own  room  to  put  it  in  order.  But 
instead  of  coming  down,  she  lingered  there,  spend 
ing  her  time  in  idle  wishing. 

When  she  came  down  to  dinner  no  one  made 
any  comment  on  her  absence  or  ill  humor;  all 
treated  her  just  as  kindly  as  ever.  Helen,  with 
all  her  faults,  was  really  a  warm-hearted  girl,  and 
this  kindness  and  forbearance  touched  her  deeply. 
She  felt  so  ashamed  that  she  longed  to  acknow 
ledge  her  wrong,  and  to  make  amends,  but  pride 
kept  her  silent.  Helen  felt  very  much  dissatisfied 
with  herself,  and  so  more  out  of  humor  than  ever. 

"This  is  Dorcas  afternoon,"  said  Barbara. 


102  HELEN   MA-CGHiEGKm ;    OR, 

"Oh,  so  it  is,"  said  Nora,  "and  I  can  finish  the 
little  pair  of  drawers  I  am  making." 

"What  is  Dorcas  afternoon?"  asked  Helen. 

Nora  proceeded  to  tell  her,  that  every  Saturday 
afternoon  the  girls  in  Mrs.  Neville's  Bible-class 
met  there  to  sew  for  an  hour,  from  half  past  two  to 
half  past  three,  for  the  poor  in  the  village. 

"You  see,"  said  Barbara,  "we  keep  our  sewing 
circle  all  the  year  round,  because  ours  is  not  like 
most  Dorcas  societies,  since  we  only  furnish  part 
of  the  material.  But  if  any  of  the  poor  families 
have  clothes  to  make  for  themselves,  and  can't  find 
time,  or  don't  know  how  to  do  it,  why  they  bring 
them  to  us." 

"That  is  a  very  easy  way  to  get  rid  of  work," 
said  Helen.  "I  think  I  shall  send  mine  in  too." 

"Oh,  but  we  don't  make  anybody's  clothes,  un 
less  mother  knows  that  it  is  impossible  for  them  to 
do  them  themselves.  Now  there  was  poor  Mr.  Dean. 
Last  winter  his  wife  died,  and  left  six  children, 
and  he  could  not  afford  to  hire  a  housekeeper;  so 
his  eldest  daughter  Lucy,  only  fourteen,  had  to 
take  care  of  the  house  and  children ;  and  of  course 
mother  knew  she  couldn't  make  her  father's  shirts 
and  the  children's  clothes.  So  our  little  Dorcas 


CONQUEST    A3STD    SACRIFICE  103 

sewed  for  her  all  last  winter.  And  we  do  yet, 
sometimes,  although  Lucy  is  getting  very  handy," 
said  Barbara. 

"But  I  shouldn't  think  you  could  get  much 
done  in  an  hour,"  said  Helen. 

"Many  hands  make  light  work,"  said  Nora; 
"mother  has  eight  girls  in  her  class,  and  Barbara 
and  I  make  ten,  and  mother  eleven,  and  mother  is 
nearly  equal  to  a  sewing  machine,  and  now  you 
will  be  twelve." 

Helen  did  not  reply,  but  she  made  up  her  mind 
that  she  was  not  going  to  trouble  herself  to  hurry. 
She  had  to  sew  on  her  own  clothes  every  afternoon, 
during  the  sewing  hour,  and  she  thought  that  was 
enough. 

It  is  wonderful  what  little  things  vex  and  pro 
voke  us,  when  we  are  in  an  irritable  humor. 
When  Helen  entered  the  parlor,  ten  minutes  after 
the  time,  she  found  the  whole  sewing  circle  busily 
at  work.  It  would  have  pleased  almost  any  one 
to  see  those  ten  young  girls,  all  laughing  and  talk 
ing,  while  their  fingers  flew  backwards  and  for 
wards  over  hem  or  seam.  Mrs.  Neville  introduced 
Helen,  and  then  told  her  to  select  a  piece  of  work 
out  of  a  large  basket  which  stood  in  a  corner. 


104  HELEN"    MTA-CGHREGJ-OR,;    OR, 

Helen  took  a  small  pink  apron,  which  had  been 
cut  out  of  an  old  one  of  Nora's. 

"  Why,  Helen,"  said  Nora,  laughingly,  "  I  be 
lieve  you  picked  out  the  smallest  piece  there." 

Many  of  the  girls  joined  in  the  laugh,  but 
Helen,  instead  of  taking  it  in  fun,  as  it  was  in 
tended,  chose  to  feel  still  more  out  of  humor. 
Then  too,  she  was  provoked  that  Nora  should  sit 
by  a  pale,  poorly-dressed  girl,  and  take  so  much 
trouble  to  entertain  her.  Helen  thought  she 
might  have  come  and  talked  to  her,  as  she  was  a 
stranger  there.  She  did  not  know  that  this  was 
Lucy  Dean,  who  seldom  enjoyed  anything,  from 
being  so  poor,  and  having  the  constant  care  of  her 
little  brothers  and  sisters ;  so  that  when  she  came 
there  Nora  tried  to  make  it  pleasant  for  her. 
But  in  a  few  minutes  the  talking  ceased,  and  Mrs. 
Neville  read  them  a  short  but  interesting  story. 
The  story  was  of  a  man  who  was  very  intempe 
rate,  but  who  was  reclaimed  through  the  earnest 
Christianity  of  his  young  daughter. 

Helen  sat  thinking  about  it ;  her  anger  was  fast 
changing  into  sorrow.  Nora  noticed  that  Helen 
looked  unhappy,  and  leaving  Lucy  she  came  and 
sat  down  by  her  side. 


CONQUEST    -A-ND    SACRIFICE.  105 

"How  did  you  like  the  story,  Helen?"  she 
asked. 

"  I  didn't  like  it  at  all,"  answered  Helen  shortly. 

"  You  didn't  like  it !"  exclaimed  Nora,  in  sur 
prise;  then  seeing  Helen's  cheek  flush  painfully, 
she  said  softly,  "  Dear  Helen,  you  are  unhappy. 
What  is  the  matter  ?" 

"Well,"  said  Helen,  frankly,  "I'm  in  a  bad 
humor.  First  I  was  provoked  at  everybody,  and 
now  I  am  provoked  at  myself." 

"But  that  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  story, 
Helen ;  why  didn't  you  like  that  ?" 

"Because  no  one  could  be  that  good.  When 
Melinda's  father  got  drunk  and  beat  her,  she  just 
went  away  without  saying  a  word  and  prayed  for 
him.  I  don't  believe  it.  I  would  not  have  staid 
with  him,  or  if  I  had  to,  I  would  never  have  let 
him  beat  me ;  and  I'm  sure  no  one  could  feel  like 
blessing  another,  after  behaving  that  way." 

"  I  know,"  said  Nora,  "  it  must  have  been  very 
hard,  and  she  could  never  have  done  it  of  herself; 
but  Jesus  gave  her  strength." 

"  Now  really,  Nora,  do  you  think  God  intends 
us  never  to  resent  our  injuries?  Suppose  some 
one  was  to  come  here,  and  insult  me ;  I  think  I 


106  HELEN    MACGKREOOR ;    OR, 

would  be  foolish  to  sit  down  quietly,  and  not  pay 
him  back." 

"Why,  Helen  dear,  didn't  you  know  we  are 
told  in  the  Bible  to  follow  our  blessed  Saviour's 
example  in  all  things?  And  I'm  sure  we'll  never 
be  called  on  to  bear  half  the  sufferings  he  en 
dured." 

"  But  he  was  God,"  said  Helen,  "  and  he  could 
bear  them  better." 

"But  mother  says  he  bore  them  as  a  man,  in 
his  human  body,  and  suffered  as  much  as  if  he  had 
not  been  God.  I  know  not  very  long  ago  a  girl 
took  one  of  Barbara's  books ;  and  she  would  rather 
lose  anything,  almost,  than  a  book ;  so  she  went 
after  it,  and  the  girl  told  her  she  hadn't  it,  and 
just  shut  the  door  in  her  face.  When  Barbara 
came  home,  she  was  very  angry.  Mother  talked 
to  us  a  long  time  about  bearing  little  things.  And 
I  remember  she  said,  that  the  best  way  for  us  to 
learn  to  bear  our  little  troubles  and  disappoint 
ments  patiently,  was  always  to  stop  and  think  how 
much  Jesus  bore.  Just  to  think,  Helen,"  and 
the  tears  started  to  her  eyes,  "  that  they  actually 
slapped  him,  and  spit  in  his  face,  and  made  fun 
of  him,  besides  scourging  him,  crowning  him  with 


CONQUEST   A.NT3    SACRIFICE.  107 

thorns,  and  at  last  crucifying  him, — and  all  for 
us." 

"And  just  to  think,"  said  Helen,  "He  was 
God,  and  might  have  destroyed  them  at  once." 

"  Yes,"  said  Nora,  "  and  yet  he  only  prayed  for 
them.  Even  on  the  cross  he  prayed  to  God  to 
forgive  them.  And  mother  says  he  gives  us  some 
of  his  strength  to  endure  and  forgive,  if  we  only 
pray  for  it  aright.  And  so  you  see,  Helen,  that 
was  why  the  girl  in  the  story  could  do  it." 

. "  Yes,  I  suppose  she  could  do  it,  and  so  could 
you,  Nora,  but  I  never  could." 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed  you  could,  Helen,  if  you  asked 
Jesus'  help,  as  Melinda  did." 

"Well,"  said  Helen,  slowly,  "perhaps  I  might; 
but  I'm  not  like  you  and  Barbara.  I  hate  to  be 
useful;  when  I  was  at  home  I  never  did  any 
thing,  unless  I  pleased,  and  now  I  like  to  waste 
my  time ;  and  this  morning,  when  your  mother 
asked  me  to  wash  the  dishes,  I  got  angry,  and 
when  I  get  angry  everything  makes  me  worse ;  I 
shall  never  learn  to  be  good.  If  I  were  only  like 
you  and  Barbara !" 

"  Don't  say  that,  Helen ;  you  have  no  idea  how 
heedless  I  am.  But  mother  says,  no  matter  what 


108  HELEN   M  A.CG-REG-OR ;    OR, 

our  faults  are,  Jesus  can  give  us  grace  to  conquer 
them." 

"Ah,"  said  Helen,  "if  I  only  could.  You 
make  me  long  to  be  a  Christian." 

"  Do,  do  be  one,  Helen  dear ;  mother  says  that 
is  the  first  step  in  our  life-work.  For  how  can 
we  go  and  work  in  the  Saviour's  harvest-fields, 
unless  we  are  his  servants  ?" 

"  Life-work !"  repeated  Helen  slowly.  "Ah,  I 
remember,  that  calm  moonlight  night  on  the 
ocean.  Beauty  everywhere  around  us.  Yes/' 
continued  Helen  musingly,  and  speaking  more  to 
herself  than  to  her  companion,"  yes,  he  said  I  had  a 
life-work  to  do,  and  I  remember  shrinking  from 
the  thought.  I  said  to  myself,  I  would  rather 
live  on  as  joyously  and  unconsciously  as  a  butter 
fly.  But  I  see  there  is  something  more  in  life 
than  mere  pleasure, — a  higher  aim,  a  sweeter  joy. 
If  Mr.  Ashton  were  alive,  how  I  should  like  to 
tell  him  that  I  understand  him  better  now." 

"  Mr.  Ashton !"  said  Nora,  "  on  board  of  a  ves 
sel  !  Why,  were  you  on  board  the  same  vessel, 
coming  from  Europe,  that  my  uncle  Clem  was  ?" 

"Your  uncle!"  said  Helen,  "was  the  Rev. 
Clement  Ashton  your  uncle  ?" 


CONQUEST    AKTD    SACRIFICE.  109 


"  Yes,"  said  Nora  sadly,  "  dear  uncle  Clem  and 
aunt  Miriam  both  died  at  sea.  That  is  why 
mother  is  so  quiet,  and  the  tears  often  fill  her 
eyes  ;  he  was  her  only  brother,  and  we  all  loved 
him  so.  Did  you  know  him  well?"  and  Nora 
bent  down  over  her  sewing  to  hide  her  tears. 

Helen  was  astonished  ;  she  commenced  relating, 
in  a  hurried  manner,  Mr.  Ashton's  visit  to  the 
Highlands,  and  her  own  departure  with  himv 
The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  breaking 
up  of  the  sewing  party,  and  Nora  left  Helen  to 
help  the  girls  on  with  their  things,  and  to  bid 
them  good-bye.  But  when  the  last  one  had  gone 
out  of  the  garden  gate,  Nora  told  the  news.  They 
were  all  surprised.  This  was  the  first  time  they 
had  heard  the  true  version  of  Helen's  emigration. 
The  girls,  instead  of  going  to  the  woods,  as  they 
had  intended,  spent  the  afternoon  with  their 
mother,  listening  to  Helen's  account  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Ashton.  Many  tears  were  shed  over  the 
loved  brother  and  uncle,  and  the  gentle  aunt  Mir 
iam.  And  Mrs.  Neville  clasped  Helen  to  her 
heart,  and  said  she  should  indeed  be  a  daughter  to 
her. 

She   felt  as   though   God  had  directed   Helen 
10 


110  HELEN"    JVLA-OGrREGOR. 

there,  that  she  might  fulfil,  as  far  as  she  could, 
her  brother's  promises. 

She  also  told  Helen,  that  on  Monday  she  would 
write  to  Scotland,  and  inform  her  father  of  all  that 
had  happened. 

When  Helen  went  to  bed  that  night,  she  felt 
happier  than  she  had  felt  for  a  long  time.  The 
love  and  kindness  of  the  Neville  family,  and  their 
deep  religious  principles,  were  influencing  her  heart 
and  mind.  She  longed  to  be  like  them ;  and  she 
knelt  and  prayed  to  God  to  teach  her  to  live  a 
better  life. 

Then,  too,  Nora  and  Barbara  seemed  to  her 
almost  like  sisters  now,  since  she  was  to  have  been 
the  adopted  daughter  of  their  uncle. 

For  the  first  time  since  she  came  there,  Helen 
lay  down  in  her  comfortable  bed,  with  no  thought 
of  its  simple  neatness  contrasting  with  the  gran 
deur  of  Mrs.  Rellim's. 


VIII. 

IffE   DAY   OF  REST. 

"  And  sweetly  over  hill  and  dale 

The  silvery  sounding  church  bells  ring; 
Across  the  moor  and  down  the  dale 
They  come  and  go,  and  on  the  gale 
Their  Sabbath  tidings  fling." 

HOW  very  different  our  evening  thoughts  ap 
pear  to  us,  in  the  broad  light  of  the  morning. 
Perhaps  we  have  spent  the  night  in  fear  and 
anxiety,  but  the  cheerful  sunlight  inspires  confi 
dence  and  hope.  It  sometimes  seems  as  though 
one  of  the  great  missions  of  night  was  to  make  us 
pause  and  think,  undisturbed  by  the  many  dis 
tractions  of  the  day.  But,  alas,  it  often  happens 
that  the  good  resolution  of  the  night,  like  the  dew, 
evaporates  in  the  genial  warmth  of  daylight. 
When  Helen  went  to  bed  the  night  before,  she 
felt  as  though  all  in  the  house  had  attained  to  a 

Christian  life  which  she  feared  she  could  never 

in 


112  HELEN    MACGHiEQOI?,;    OR,, 

imitate,  and  she  had  prayed  for  help  to  live  better. 
When  she  arose  in  the  morning,  her  fear  of  the 
evening  before  had  gone. 

"If  they  are  kind  and  obliging  to  me,"  she 
thought,  "I  can  return  it  surely.  I  love  them, 
and  it  cannot  be  a  hard  task  to  oblige  those  we 
love.  What  would  Margaret  think?  She  used 
always  to  say  I  was  the  brightest  blossom  in  the 
Highlands ;  what  would  she  think,  did  she  know, 
there  are  others  here  whose  words  and  actions  put 
her  own  Helen  to  shame  ?  No,"  continued  Helen, 
and  she  looked  into  the  glass,  and  threw  back  her 
head,  with  a  gesture  worthy  of  her  father,  "  No,  a 
Highland  girl  must  never  be  outdone  in  kind 
ness." 

Poor,  foolish  Helen!  Striving  to  stand  on  the 
sandy  foundation  of  her  own  weak  will.  The 
great  defect  in  Helen's  character,  was  the  want  of 
a  guiding  principle.  She  loved  to  admire,  and 
dream  of  great  purposes,  and  noble  deeds,  but 
when  the  moment  came  to  perform  them,  she  sank 
back  into  selfish  indolence.  She  liked  to  do  kind 
and  generous  things,  when  they  cost  her  little 
trouble ;  but  even  then,  she  did  them  without  any 
discrimination,  and  bestowed  her  money  as  readily 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  113 

for  a  bad  as  for  a  good  cause,  if  it  happened  to 
touch  her  feelings.  She  never  stopped  to  ask  her 
self  the  questions,  "  Is  it  right  ?  "Will  it  please 
God  ?"  Of  all  this,  old  Margaret  never  thought, 
how  then  should  Helen  know?  Thus  she  be 
gan  that  week  on  the  wrong  principle.  Very 
true  Helen  had  prayed,  the  night  before,  for 
strength  and  guidance;  but  she  only  wished  to 
imitate  the  daily  life  around  her,  which  she  ad 
mired.  No  deep  sorrow  for  her  pride  and  un- 
thankfulness  and  many  sins,  sent  her  a  lowly  pen 
itent  to  the  foot  of  the  cross ;  and  until  then,  she 
must  walk  on  in  darkness,  vainly  struggling  for 
the  light. 

She  went  to  Sunday-school  and  church  with 
Barbara  and  Nora,  and  begais  her  first  week 
of  work,  true  to  her  good  resolution,  with  a  promp 
titude  that  pleased  Mrs.  Neville.  Helen  was  very 
well  satisfied ;  she  took  "  a  ray  of  sunlight  for  an 
abiding  day,"  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  to 
be  a  Christian  only  needed  a  firm  determination 
to  do  right. 

"  Oh,  dear,  what  shall  I  do  ?"  said  Nora,  in  a 
distressed  tone,  coming  after  dinner  into  the  study 

where    Barbara  was  reading  her   library  book, 
10  *  H 


114  HELEN   MACGKREOOR;    OR, 

and  Helen  was  looking  over  the  pictures  in  the 
large  Bible. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Helen. 

"  I  cannot  find  my  Bible,"  answered  Nora,  be 
ginning  to  go  round  the  room,  and  turning  up 
everything  she  came  to. 

"  Don't  make  such  a  noise,  please,  Nora,"  said 
Barbara ;  "  it  was  so  cool  and  quiet  in  here,  I  was 
just  saying  it  seemed  like  Sunday.  Your  book 
can't  be  in  here ;  you  have  not  been  in  this  room 
to-day,  before." 

"  No,  I  know  I  wasn't,  but  then  it  might  have 
got  in  here,  for  my  things  get  everywhere.  I'll 
try  and  not  make  a  noise,  Barbara  dear." 

"  I'll  help  you  look  for  it,"  said  Helen,  getting 
up,  "  if  you  want  it  now ;  but  there  are  two  Bibles 
on  the  book  shelf,  why  don't  you  read  in  one  of 
those?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  there  are  plenty  of  Bibles," 
said  Nora,  knocking  down  three  books  in  her 
search ;  "  but  see,  it  is  nearly  a  quarter  of  three 
o'clock,  and  at  three  mamma  will  be  in,  for  it  is 
our  lesson  hour,  and  she  always  wants  us  to 
use  our  own  Bibles.  Oh,  I  do  wish  I  did  not 
forget  so." 


CONQUEST    -A-NX>    SACRIFICE.  115 

"Why,  do  you  have  a  lesson  on  Sunday?" 
asked  Helen,  looking  surprised. 

"  Oh,  a  Bible  lesson.  You  will  like  it,  Helen ; 
mother  always  gives  us  some  man  or  woman  in 
the  Bible  to  study  about,  and  then  we  learn  all  we 
can  of  them,  and  mother  questions  us,  and 
talks  to  us  about  them." 

"  Take  my  Bible,"  said  Helen,  "you  know  it  is 
just  like  yours,  and  your  mother  will  never 
notice." 

"  Oh,  Helen,  how  can  you  ?  Why  that  would 
be  deceiving  mother,  and  acting  a  story." 

Helen  drew  back  slightly  offended,  and  said 
pettishly,  "  Well,  even  if  she  did  know  it,  I  don't 
see  why  she  would  care.  One  Bible  is  just  as 
good  as  another." 

"  Yes,  so  it  is.  But  mother  says  if  we .  keep 
our  own  Bibles,  and  always  use  them,  they  become 
so  dear  to  us  after  a  while,  that  we  love  them,  and 
love  to  read  in  them,  and  get  used  to  finding  all 
the  places." 

"  Really,  Nora,  I  can't  make  any  sense  of  what 
I'm  reading,  you  talk  so,"  said  Barbara ;  "  your 
Bible  can't  be  in  here." 

"  No,  it  isn't  in  here ;  I'll  go  out  and  look  in 


116  UEXjEN"   IVLA-CGKREQ-OR;    OR, 

the  parlor  once  more,  though  I'm  sure  I  have 
looked  everywhere." 

Nora  searched  in  the  parlor,  the  kitchen,  and 
the  porch,  and  Helen  followed. 

"  Do  try  and  think  what  you  did  with  it,  when 
you  came  in  from  church ;  I  saw  it  in  your  hand 
then,"  said  Helen ;  "where  did  you  go  first?" 

"  I  just  came  in,  and  went  up  stairs,  and  took 
off  my  hat  and  mantle,  and  put  on  my  apron,  and 
came  down  here  on  the  porch,  and  sat  until  din 
ner  time." 

"  Did  you  look  up  stairs  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  looked  all  over,  and  shook  out  my 
mantle  too.  But  come,  we  must  go  in  now,  it  is 
almost  three,  and  mother  will  be  down  directly." 

"  Take  my  Bible,"  insisted  Helen. 

"  I  would  not  care  so  much,"  continued  Nora, 
with  a  sigh,  and  without  answering  Helen,  "  only 
I  have  been  trying  so  hard  lately  not  to  forget 
where  I  put  things,  and  now  mother  will  think  I 
have  gone  back  already." 

"  Take  my  Bible,"  again  said  Helen,  as  they 
reached  the  study  door. 

Nora  made  no  answer,  and  Helen  indignantly 
thought,  "  There,  I  don't  see  any  use  in  my  trying 


CONQUEST    A3STD    SACRIFICE.  117 

to  behave  better.  I  try  to  oblige  Nora,  and  she 
all  but  tells  me  I  am  acting  wickedly.  I  don't 
see  any  use  in  being  so  very  good  about  trifles.  I 
can't  be  good  where  people  are  so  full  of  notions. 
Well,  never  mind,  I'll  not  be  discouraged;  I'm 
improving,  anyhow,  and  I  don't  intend  to  be  out 
done  by  Nora." 

Alas,  Helen  did  not  know  she  could  never  im 
prove  while  she  trusted  to  her  own  guidance  and 
strength.  Nor  indeed  did  she  succeed  entirely  in 
deceiving  herself.  She  secretly  admired  the  firm 
principle  in  Nora's  life,  which  made  her  shun  the 
wrong  at  once ;  but  that  only  added  to  her  desire 
to  live  as  Nora  did.  Helen  had  yet  to  learn  that 
it  is  no  true  kindness  to  lead  another  into  tempta 
tion.  Many  girls  would  have  yielded  to  her 
entreaties ;  and  thus  Helen  would  have  been  the 
cause  of  their  deceiving,  all  through  her  mistaken 
notion  of  being  good.  But  Nora  was  a  Christian 
child,  and  said  her  prayers  too  faithfully  and 
earnestly,  to  be  so  easily  led  astray.  She  did  not 
answer  Helen  again,  but  opened  the  study  door, 
and  took  one  of  the  Bibles  off  the  shelf,  and  sat 
down  to  find  the  lesson.  Barbara  also  laid  aside 
her  book,  and  took  her  Bible.  Helen  drew  a 


118  HELEN    MACGKREGOR, ;    OR, 

chair  to  Nora's  side,  as  Mrs.  Neville  opened  her 
door,  up  stairs,  preparatory  to  coming  down. 

"Why,  what  is  in  your  pocket,  Nora?"  said 
Helen,  "I  hit  my  hand  quite  hard  against  it." 

Nora  put  her  hand  into  her  pocket,  and  they 
all  smiled,  as  she  drew  forth  the  missing  Bible. 
The  amusement  was  scarcely  over,  when  Mrs. 
Neville  entered  the  room. 

These  Sunday  afternoon  lessons  were  heartily 
enjoyed,  both  by  mother  and  children.  It  was  a 
pleasant  picture,  the  quiet  shady  room,  Mrs.  Ne 
ville,  still  fulfilling  the  promise  of  her  girlhood  in 
her  matronly  beauty,  sitting  by  the  open  window, 
which  gave  a  glimpse  of  green  grass,  golden  with 
the  warm  sunlight,  through  which  came  the  sweet 
song  of  birds,  and  the  perfume  of  the  flower  gar 
den.  And  Helen's  eyes  wandered  more  than  once 
to  the  bright  landscape  beyond.  Then  those 
youthful  forms,  bent  over  their  open  Bibles,  with 
"  their  yet  unwritten  brows,"  learning  to  tread  in 
the  narrow  road  which  leadeth  unto  eternal 
life. 

"  What  is  the  character  for  to-day,  Barbara  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Neville. 

"Absalom." 


CONQUEST    A.NT)    SACRIFICE.  119 

The  lesson  then  began.  Barbara  told  all 
that  was  known  of  the  first  part  of  his  life ;  that 
he  was  David's  favorite  son,  that  his  mother's 
name  was  Maacah,  and  how  beautiful  he  was. 
Then  Nora  took  it  up,  and  continued, 

"  He  had  one  sister,  whom  he  loved  very  much, 
named  Tamar.  His  brother  Amnon  injured  her, 
and  Absalom  was  very  angry  with  him.  He 
made  a  great  supper  at  the  time  of  sheep-shearing, 
and  invited  all  his  brethren.  They  all  accepted 
the  invitation,  excepting  Amnon.  Then  Absalom 
asked  his  father  David  to  compel  Amnon  to  come. 
Amnon  came,  and  Absalom  told  his  servants  to 
fall  on  him  and  kill  him,  which  they  did.  For 
this,  Absalom  was  banished  from  Jerusalem." 

"He  was  in  exile  two  years,"  said  Barbara, 
"  and  then  Joab  employed  a  wise  woman  of  Te- 
koah  to  go  and  plead  with  David,  and  to  repre 
sent  Absalom's  case,  as  though  he  had  been  her 
own  son ;  and  she  begged  the  king  that  he  might 
be  restored  from  banishment." 

"  What  did  the  king  say,  Nora  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Neville. 

"  David  perceived  that  she  meant  Absalom,  and 
he  asked  at  once  if  Joab  had  not  sent  her  ?  The 


120  HELEN   3VEA.CGHIEGOR,;    OR, 

woman  said,  yes,  and  the  king  allowed  Absalom 
to  return  to  Jerusalem,  but  did  not  see  him  for 
two  years." 

"  After  this,"  said  Barbara,  "  Absalom  behaved 
very  badly  to  Joab.  He  burned  his  grain-fields, 
because  Joab  did  not  get  him  restored  to  the  pre 
sence  of  the  king  his  father.  After  that,  Absalom 
was  permitted  to  go  to  court." 

"  "When  Absalom  had  been  in  Jerusalem  some 
time,"  said  Nora,  "  he  got  himself  many  chariots 
and  horses,  and  servants  to  run  before  him.  Then 
by  his  beauty  and  flattery,  he  stole  the  hearts  of 
the  children  of  Israel  away  from  David  his  father, 
and  he  went  to  Hebron,  and  had  himself  pro 
claimed  king  there." 

"  Go  on,  Barbara,"  said  Mrs.  Neville. 

"The  rebellion  lasted  some  time,  and  David 
was  obliged  to  flee  from  Jerusalem.  But  he  gave 
charge  to  all  the  people,  and  to  the  captains  of  his 
host,  that  if  they  took  Absalom,  they  were  to  spare 
his  life,  and  deal  gently  with  him.  The  followers 
of  Absalom  were  defeated;  and  Absalom  was 
running  away,  when  the  mule  on  which  he  rode 
ran  under  the  thick  branches  of  an  oak  tree,  and 
Absalom's  head  was  caught  in  the  branches ;  the 


CONQUEST    A.ND    SACRIFICE.  121 

mule  went  from  under  him,  and  left  him  hang 
ing  there." 

"  Some  of  the  men  saw  him,"  said  Nora,  "  and 
they  told  Joab,  and  he  went  and  thrust  a  dart 
through  him,  and  killed  him.  David  lamented 
very  bitterly  over  the  death  of  his  favorite  son." 

Helen  had  been  deeply  interested  in  this  story. 
There  was  a  daring  recklessness  about  Absalom, 
that  suited  well  her  wild  fancy.  She  forgot  his 
deep  sins,  and  base  ingratitude  to  a  fond  father, 
and  she  was  thinking  so  deeply  of  his  shameful 
death,  that  she  almost  started  when  Mrs.  Neville 
said, 

"  There  are  so  many  lessons,  so  many  warnings 
in  the  life  of  Absalom,  and  our  hour  is  so  nearly 
gone,  we  will  only  have  time  for  a  few  remarks 
now,  and  take  the  lessons  to  be  drawn  from  it  for 
next  Sunday  afternoon.  One  point  I  would  spe 
cially  mention, — the  warning  against  vanity.  Fear 
fully  does  the  story  of  Absalom  teach,  that  beauty 
is  a  great  snare  unless  it  is  consecrated  to  the  ser 
vice  of  God.  Absalom's  beauty  won  him  the  hearts 
of  Israel,  and  led  to  his  dark  sins.  But  the  prin 
cipal  lesson  I  wish  you  to  learn  from  this  is  the 
uncertainty  of  life,  and  the  necessity  of  being  pre- 
11 


122  HELEN    MAOGHtEGOR, ;    OR,, 

pared  for  death.  The  wise  man  says,  "  There  is  a 
time  to  die."  A  time  for  every  one  that  lives  to 
become  even  as  Absalom.  And  I  was  thinking 
how  strikingly  this  death  of  Absalom  teaches  us 
that  nothing  earthly  can  save  us  from  the  doom 
of  all.  Absalom  was  the  son  of  a  king,  and  so 
stood  high  among  men.  He  was  very  wealthy; 
we  are  told  he  had  several  thousand  chariots, 
horses,  and  servants.  He  was  very  beautiful. 
He  was  deeply  loved  by  his  father,  and  by  all 
Israel.  More  than  that,  he  was  young.  And  yet 
he  died.  Nothing  earthly  could  save  him ;  neither 
wealth,  nor  greatness,  nor  beauty;  not  the  fond, 
doting  love  of  a  father,  who  was  one  of  God's 
chosen ;  not  the  strength  and  vigor  of  his  youthful 
manhood,  nothing.  It  had  come  his  time  to  die, 
as  it  will  come  ours ;  and,  oh,  then,  my  dear  chil 
dren,  happy  are  they  who  have  the  Saviour's  arm 
to  lean  upon;  who  have  a  Saviour's  hand  to 
smooth  a  dying  pillow.  Did  you  ever  lie  awake 
at  night,  and  think,  suppose  I  should  die  to-night, 
to  what  place  would  I  go  ?  Would  I  have  the 
blessed  Saviour  to  lead  me  gently  through  the 
dark  waters  up  to  the  eternal  gates  of  pearl? 
Dear  girls,  nothing  grand,  or  great,  or  beautiful, 


CONQUEST    A.TW    SACRIFICE.  123 

that  earth  bestows,  could  save  Absalom;  and 
nothing  earthly  will  avail  you  in  that  solemn  hour. 
Then  pray  each  day  more  earnestly  for  faith  and 
love.  Lay  up  treasure  in  heaven ;  so,  when  the 
Master  cometh,  at  midnight,  or  at  the  cock-crow 
ing,  he  shall  find  you  ready." 

Mrs.  Neville  ceased,  and  tears  dimmed  the  eyes 
of  her  youthful  listeners.  When  she  left  the  room, 
quietness  reigned  in  the  little  study.  Each  one 
was  thinking,  in  her  own  way,  of  Mrs.  Neville's 
words,  "  you,  too,  must  die."  And  to  each  one, 
how  differently  came  the  thought. 

Barbara  thought  at  first  of  the  dread  of  dying ; 
but  she  soon  remembered  stories  she  had  read  of 
children  who  had  died  happy,  and  she  gradually 
wandered  away  in  fancy,  to  her  own  tomb,  when 
she  should  be  dead;  and  how  her  mother  and 
sister,  perhaps,  would  kneel  and  weep  over  her, 
till  in  the  fancy  picture  she  forgot  the  solemn  pre 
paration  and  the  life  hereafter. 

Not  so  Nora.  With  sweet  childish  faith, 
she  believed  that  her  Saviour  was  ready  to  wel 
come  her.  Had  he  not  said,  "Suffer  little  chil 
dren,  and  forbid  them  not  to  come  unto  me :  for  of 
such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ?"  She  had  gone 


124  HELEN    MACGHREOOR;    OR, 

to  him,  with  all  her  sins  and  weaknesses.  She 
loved  him,  and  a  sweet  peace  settled  on  her  heart 
as  the  beautiful  words  of  the  hymn  came  into  her 
mind, 

"  Fear  not,  I  am  with  thee ;  0  be  not  dismayed ! 
For  I  am  thy  God,  and  will  still  give  thee  aid  j 
I'll  strengthen  thee,  help  thee,  and  cause  thee  to  stand, 
Upheld  by  my  righteous,  omnipotent  hand." 

She  stole  quietly  up  to  her  own  room,  there  to 
kneel  once  more  and  hold  sweet  communion  with 
her  Saviour. 

But  of  what  was  Helen  thinking  ?  How  came 
the  solemn  warning  to  the  gay  Scotch  girl  ?  She 
leaned  her  elbow  on  the  table,  and  her  head  in  her 
hand,  and  gave  herself  up  to  deep  thought.  She 
was  troubled  to  the  very  depths  of  her  soul,  with 
a  vague  yearning  and  unrest.  A  vision  of  her 
own  native  land  swept  over  her, — its  lone  moun 
tains  and  wild  moors,  where,  free  and  careless,  she 
had  followed  her  own  gay  will,  without  a  shade 
of  care.  No  one  there  had  troubled  her  with 
thoughts  of  dying.  No  one  had  urged  Jier  to  love 
a  crucified  Redeemer ;  and  she  longed  to  be  back 
again,  treading  with  light,  free  footstep  the  moun 
tain  side.  And  yet,  through  all  this  longing,  a 


CONQUEST   AND    SACJtllTTOE.  125 

still  small  voice  was  whispering,  "  there  is  a  higher 
life ;  you  must  live  forever,  either  in  happiness  or 
in  misery."  She  had  not  lived  even  for  that  short 
time,  in  the  heart  of  a  truly  Christian  family, 
without  feeling  that  there  must  be  a  life  beyond. 
Their  actions  were  guided  by  rules  of  which  she 
knew  nothing. 

But  sadness  was  not  pleasing  to  Helen.  She 
soon  began  to  think  more  cheerfully.  She  glanced 
into  the  looking-glass.  Her  dark  curls  swept  a 
cheek  rosy  with  health,  and  giving  her  head  a  gay 
shake,  she  smiled,  as  she  thought,  "  Why  should  I 
worry?  I  am  young  and  healthy,  and  life  is  very 
pleasant.  Besides,  I  would  never  be  as  wicked  as 
Absalom  was." 

Stop,  Helen !  Look  into  your  heart.  Are  you 
not,  even  now,  rebelling  against  God,  your  heav 
enly  Father — refusing  to  submit  to  his  will  in 
all  things?  Have  you  not  been  ungrateful  for  his 
many  favors?  Even  now,  do  you  not  look  into 
the  glass  with  some  of  Absalom's  vanity?  Van 
ity,  ingratitude,  rebellion!  Are  Absalom's  sins 
yours,  my  reader?  Oh,  think  how  earthly  pride 
and  vanity  must  appear  in  the  holy  presence 
11* 


126  HELEN   M^VCGKREGJOR. 

and  splendor  of  Him  before  whom  the  angels  veil 
their  faces! 

Does  ingratitude  whisper  in  your  heart  a  discon 
tent  with  a  humble  home?  or  with  the  all-wise 
dealings  of  the  God  who  gives  you  all  things,  even 
the  very  air  you  breathe?  Oh,  if  such  be  your 
case,  rebel  no  longer  against  One  before  whom  re 
bellion  is  impotent,  and  yet  who  condescends  to 
entreat  your  love  and  fealty, — who  gave  his  only 
Son,  to  win  you  back  to  love  and  life. 


IX. 

THE  BROKEN   PIXCHER. 

"  One  by  one  thy  duties  meet  thee; 

Let  thy  whole  strength  go  to  each : 
Let  no  future  dream  elate  thee  ; 

Learn  thou  first  what  these  can  teach." 

WEEKS  glide  rapidly  by  when  busy  hands 
arid  light  hearts  help  them  on  their  way. 
Helen  was  still  struggling  on  in  her  pride  and  self- 
will,  striving  to  attain  to  a  Christian  life  without 
the  help  of  the  great  Guide.  She  was  like  a  blind 
man  walking  on  the  verge  of  a  precipice,  who  re 
fuses  to  listen  to  the  friendly  voices  around  him 
urging  him  out  of  danger,  and  who  heeds  not  the 
hand  stretched  out  to  succor  him.  Thus  Helen 
lived  week  after  week,  and  listened  to  Mrs.  Ne 
ville's  earnest  prayers  and  teachings  without  pro 
fiting  by  them.  She  strove  to  still  the  murmur- 
ings  of  an  awakened  spirit  by  the  performance  of 
good  deeds.  Hers  was  a  gay,  lively  disposition, 
and  when  conscience  whispered,  she  drowned  the 

127 


128  HELEN   3VLA.CGREQOR;   OR, 

still  small  voice  in  some  funny  prank  or  amusing 
play.  She  took  her  turn  in  the  household  duties 
without  repining  outwardly,  but  inwardly  she  still 
longed  for  the  wealth  and  ease  of  Mrs.  Rellim's. 
Her  happiest  hours  were  spent  in  the  school-room. 
There  she  learned  with  a  rapidity  that  surprised 
Mrs.  Neville.  Barbara,  with  her  mother's  con 
sent,  had  borrowed  Helen's  copy  of  Robinson 
Crusoe.  As  she  finished  reading  each  chapter,  she 
related  it  to  Helen.  The  longing  wish  to  read  as 
well  as  Barbara  read,  gave  an  additional  impulse 
to  Helen's  study  hours.  Helen  was  naturally  im 
patient,  and  being  very  much  interested  in  the 
story,  she  used  to  get  quite  vexed  that  Barbara 
could  not  find  more  time  for  reading. 

Thus  it  happened  one  morning,  when  Barbara 
came  up  stairs  after  breakfast  to  make  the  beds, 
Helen  said, 

"I'll  make  the  beds,  Barbara,  you  sit  down  and 
read  another  chapter,  so  that  you  can  tell  it  to  me 
before  school  time." 

"Oh  no,  I  cannot;  mother  always  wishes  us  to 
do  our  own  work." 

"To  be  sure  she  does,  as  a  general  thing,  but  she 
would  not  care  for  once." 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  129 

"I'm  afraid  she  would,"  said  Barbara,  at  the 
same  time  casting  a  longing  look  at  the  book  on 
the  table. 

"How  foolish  you  are,  Barbara,  standing  there; 
you  might  have  had  a  chapter  half  read  by  this 
time.  I  think  Mrs.  Neville  Mrould  laugh  at  the 
idea  of  objecting  to  my  making  the  beds  once  for 
you,"  and  Helen  began  spreading  the  bed-clothes. 

Barbara,  after  a  little  hesitation  took  up  the 
book,  saying  to  herself,  "  Doing  it  only  this  one 
morning  cannot  make  much  difference."  Helen 

* 

finished  the  work,  and  then  listened  to  the  chapter 
with  delighted  interest.  But  Barbara  did  not  feel 
at  all  comfortable.  Nevertheless,  the  next  morn 
ing  when  Helen,  without  saying  anything,  began 
making  the  beds,  Barbara,  not  feeling  quite  so 
badly  as  she  did  the  day  before,  read  another  chap 
ter.  Ah,  when  once  we  give  way  to  the  first  temp 
tation,  how  hard  it  is  to  resist  the  others !  No 
thing  else  that  Helen  could  have  offered,  would 
have  tempted  Barbara  so  much,  as  an  opportunity 
to  read.  Barbara  would  at  any  time  rather  read 
than  play.  And  this  was  Helen's  boasted  im 
provement  !  She  was  not  only  sinning  herself  but 
coaxing  another  to  sin.  For  disobedience,  even  in 


130  HELEN   MACGKREQOR;    OR, 

the  slightest  thing,  is  breaking  God's  holy  com 
mandment. 

"  Where  have  you  been  so  long,  this  morning, 
Helen?"  asked  Mrs.  Neville,  "you  have  nothing 
to  do  up  stairs  to-day;  I  have  been  waiting  for 
you.  I  wish  you  would  please  take  this  pitcher, 
and  bring  me  some  molasses  from  the  store." 

Helen  did  not  answer ;  a  burning  blush  spread 
over  her  face. 

"Mother,"  said  Nora,  noticing  Helen's  reluc 
tance,  "  Helen  has  never  been  to  the  store;  let  her 
wipe  these  plates,  and  I  will  go." 

"  I  know  she  has  never  been,"  replied  her  mo 
ther,  "  and  so  I  want  her  to  go,  and  learn  the  way; 
for  some  time,  you  and  Barbara  might  not  be 
here." 

Still  Helen  did  not  move,  and  Mrs.  Neville, 
who  was  standing  with  her  back  towards  her, 
turned  round  to  look  at  her.  When  she  saw  the 
young  girl's  face,  she  said, 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter,  Helen?" 

"  I  do  not  want  to  go  after  molasses." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Mrs.  Neville  with  evident 
surprise. 

"Because," — said  Helen,  stopping  short. 


CONQTJEST   AJSTD   SACRIFICE.  131 

"Because  is  no  reason,  Helen,  why  do  you  not 
wish  to  go  ?" 

"  At  home  we  kept  a  servant  to  run  errands," 
answered  Helen,  proudly. 

Mrs.  Neville  looked  at  her ;  and  there  was  so 
much  sorrow  and  compassion  in  the  gaze,  that 
Helen  reddened  beneath  it,  and  heartily  wished 
she  had  said  nothing. 

"Do  you  think,  Helen,  there  is  anything  dis 
graceful  in  bringing  molasses  from  the  store  ?"  she 
asked,  at  length. 

Helen  looked  down,  and  did  not  answer. 

"Poor  foolish  child!"  continued  Mrs.  Neville, 
"you  have  been  imbibing  very  proud  and  sinful 
notions.  It  is  said  that  once,  when  Washington 
was  commander-in-chief,  a  corporal  in  his  army 
refused  to  help  his  men  throw  up  fortifications. 
He  was  too  proud  to  do  it,  because  he  was  a  cor 
poral.  Washington  hearing  of  it  went  to  the 
spot  and  commenced  helping  the  soldiers,  work 
ing  as  hard  as  any  of  them,  until  the  young  cor 
poral,  filled  with  shame,  gladly  took  his  share  of 
the  work.  Had  you  been  there,  Helen,  which 
part  would  you  have  acted?  Ah,  Helen,  my 
child,  God  give  you  grace  to  conquer  that  foolish 


132  HBHiElSr   M-A-CGHRJEGOR,  ;    OR,, 


pride.  We  never  read  in  the  Bible  of  the  Sa 
viour's  pride,  although  he  was  Lord  of  all.  No, 
his  earthly  life  was  spent  among  earth's  poorest 
ones,  ministering  to  their  wants.  Pray  to  him  for 
some  portion  of  his  lovely  humility." 

Helen  without  saying  anything,  took  down  her 
hat,  and  went  out.  She  was  touched  by  Mrs. 
Neville's  kindness  and  forbearance,  and  ashamed 
of  her  own  conduct.  As  she  walked  through  the 
shady  lane,  she  made  up  her  mind  that  she  would 
never  be  so  foolish  again  ;  and  that,  no  matter  what 
she  had  to  do,  she  would  do  it  with  pleasure.  She 
walked  along,  thinking  thus,  until  she  was  quite 
persuaded  that  she  had  cured  herself  already. 
But,  alas,  for  the  keeping  of  such  hastily  made  re 
solutions  !  Helen  had  not  gone  far,  when  whom 
should  she  see  approaching  but  Mary  Rellini? 
Mary  was  dressed  very  prettily,  and  a  delicate 
little  sunshade  was  in  her  hand.  In  an  instant  all 
Helen's  brave  resolutions  were  over.  Mary  Rel- 
lim  had  told  her  that  she  would  have  to  run 
errands,  and  work;  and  even  if  it  were  true, 
Helen  made  up  her  mind  that  Mary  should  not 
know  it.  What  to  do  with  the  pitcher  was 
Helen's  first  thought.  There  was  no  time  to  hide 


CONQUEST    AOSTD    SACRIFICE.  133 

it;  Mary  might  look  up  any  moment,  and  see 
her.  A  field,  with  a  low  fence,  lay  on  one  side 
of  her,  so  she  dropped  the  pitcher  over  as  gently 
as  possible,  and  then  sat  down  to  wait  Mary's  com 
ing,  trying  to  think  how  she  should  account  for 
her  presence  there,  at  that  time  of  the  morning. 
But  Helen  was  spared  the  sin  of  that  deceit,  for 
Mary  turned  down  another  road,  without  seeing 
her.  Helen  looked  after  her  with  all  her  former 
longings.  She  wished  for  a  hat  and  feather,  and 
a  silk  dress,  just  like  those;  and  with  all  her  old 
reluctance  she  turned  to  find  the  pitcher.  Once 
over  the  fence  she  saw  it,  but  in  picking  it  up 
only  the  handle  came  up  in  her  hand — the  pitcher 
was  broken!  Helen's  first  thought  was  one  of 
pleasure  that  she  could  not  go  to  the  store ;  her 
next  was,  what  would  Mrs.  Neville  say?  But 
Helen  had  been  brought  up  in  too  free  and  care 
less  a  manner  to  have  much  fear  about  her ;  when, 
therefore,  she  entered  the  kitchen,  she  answered  at 
once  to  Mrs.  Neville's  look  of  surprise, 

"  I  broke  the  pitcher." 

"  How  did  you  come  to  break  it  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Neville. 

"  I  threw  it  down,"  answered  Helen,  coloring. 
12 


134  HELETT   Mu-VCGKEtEOOR,;    OR, 

"Threw  it  down!"  repeated  Mrs.  Neville, 
"  why,  what  did  you  do  that  for  ?" 

But  to  this  question  Helen  returned  no  answer. 
Mrs.  Neville  asked  again  and  again.  But  Helen 
would  not  tell.  She  was  ashamed  of  it  herself, 
and  that  was  bad  enough  to  bear;  she  would  not 
give  them  the  opportunity  of  thinking  her  so  silly. 
Mrs.  Neville  said  kindly,  but  firmly, 

"Helen,  I  cannot  allow  disobedience  and  stub 
bornness.  Go  to  your  room,  and  do  not  leave  it 
until  you  have  made  up  your  mind  to  tell  me  the 
whole  truth." 

Helen  turned  with  flashing  eyes  to  resist  this  or 
der;  but  there  was  firmness  in  Mrs.  Neville's 
face,  with  all  its  gentleness,  which  seemed  to  say, 
"I  will  be  obeyed,"  and  Helen  left  the  room. 

Into  the  balmy  breath  of  the  summer  air,  as  it 
came  in  at  the  open  window,  Helen  carried  the 
gloom  of  her  own  sinful  heart.  She  threw  herself 
on  the  floor,  and  yielded  to  a  burst  of  tears.  This 
was  the  first  time  in  her  life  that  she  had  ever 
been  punished,  and  with  all  the  might  of  her 
haughty  spirit  she  rebelled  against  it. 

"What  right  has  Mrs.  Neville  to  punish  me? 
I  am  not  her  own  daughter.  I  was  beginning  to 


CONQUEST   A.ND    SACRIFICE.  135 

love  her;  now  I  do  not  like  her  at  all.  To  try 
and  make  me  answer  her  question,  as  if  I  were  a 
little  child !  I  never  will  tell,  never  !  She  may  keep 
me  here  as  long  as  she  pleases.  No,  she  cannot 
keep  me  here  if  I  do  not  choose  to  stay;  and  I 
will  not  stay  long.  Why  should  I  do  what  I 
never  had  to  do  at  home?  Ah,  there  I  was 
happy.  Margaret  loved  me,  and  she  never  made 
me  mind.  At  Mrs.  Rellim's,  too,  I  was  happy. 
Why  did  I  come  here,  where  I  am  so  miserable  ? 
I  have  never  been  happy  here,  never!" 

That  was  partly  true.  From  the  time  she  had 
first  come  to  live  at  Mrs.  Neville's,  she  had  not  been 
happy.  For  she  was  constantly  reminded  by  the 
lives  of  those  around  her -that  she  was  treading  in 
the  wrong  path.  It  broke  in  upon  her  self-com 
placency,  and  made  her  discontented.  Then  she 
had  striven  to  imitate  them,  and  that  only  added 
to  her  vexation,  because  she  always  failed.  Pride 
kept  her  from  seeking  counsel  of  Mrs.  Neville, 
and  thus  those  six  weeks  had  passed  away,  and  been 
the  most  unhappy  of  her  life.  The  young  dislike 
to  suffer.  They  turn  from  the  bitter  cup  with 
loathing.  But  God  knows  always  what  is  best. 
The  Holy  Spirit  was  striving  with  her,  trying  to 


136  HEIJBN    AiE^CGKREGOIt;    OR, 

win  her  to  a  Saviour's  love;  but  still  she  refused. 
"All  deep  joy  is  boru  of  sorrow."  Would  Helen 
one  day  step  from  the  deep  sorrow  of  repentance 
to  the  sweet  joy  of  sins  forgiven  through  a  Sa 
viour's  love  and  mercy? 

The  morning  hours  passed  slowly.  She  thought 
of  the  pleasant  little  study.  It  was  the  morning 
for  the  French  lesson,  and  she  would  not  be  there 
to  laugh  at  Nora's  efforts  at  pronunciation.  Then 
she  wondered  if  they  missed  her,  and  a  wish  came 
that  she  could  begin  the  morning  over  again, 
and  act  differently;  banished  instantly  by  the 
thought  that  it  could  not  be  helped  now,  and  she 
would  not  give  up. 

Alas !  for  misimproved  time !  How  many  of  us 
can  look  back  and  long  for  the  return  of  wasted 
years,  that  we  might  live  them  better.  But  tune 
sweeps  by  as  rapidly  as  though  its  hdurs  did  not 
mould  the  immortal  life  of  man.  The  days  have 
been,  and  they  are  not,  and  they  return  no  more. 
God  grant  that  no  one  who  reads  this  narrative, 
may  look  back  from  a  dying  bed,  with  a  wild 
longing  to  recall  the  years  in  which  he  never 
thought  of  God,  or  prepared  to  meet  him ! 

Mrs.  Neville  brought  Helen's  dinner  up,  and 


CONQUEST   ANT)    SACRIFICE:.  137 

asked,  kindly,  if  she  was  ready  to  talk  with  her ; 
but  Helen  merely  answered,  "No,  ma'am,"  and 
refused  to  taste  anything,  and  Mrs.  Neville  went 
down  again,  much  disappointed. 

The  day  seemed  very  long  to  Helen  ;  and  it  was 
very  long  to  Barbara  and  Nora  also.  When  play 
time  came,  nothing  interested  them,  and  Barbara 
sat  down  to  read,  wishing  she  could  go  and  tell 
Helen  the  different  interesting  things  as  she  came 
to  them.  Nora  begged  several  times  to  go  up  and 
coax  Helen,  but  Mrs.  Neville  would  not  allow  it. 
The  evening  was  very  quiet.  Mrs.  Neville  had 
gone  up  with  Helen's  supper,  and  returned  with 
the  same  result. 

When  Nora  and  Barbara  went  to  bed,  they 
listened,  but  all  was  quiet  in  the  next  room ;  for 
Helen  had  gone  to  sleep  early.  The  two  girls 
talked  a  little  about  her,  and  hoped  that  by  to 
morrow  all  would  be  right.  Nora  whispered  a 
soft  good  night  at  Helen's  door,  jumped  into  bed, 
and  was  soon  fast  asleep.  Barbara  read  her  Bible, 
and  was  just  going  to  blow  out  the  candle,  when  her 
eye  lighted  on  Robinson  Crusoe.  She  had  been 
reading  part  of  an  interesting  chapter,  and  thought 

she  would  just  finish  it  before  she  retired.     But 
12* 


138  HELEN    MA.CGKR.EGOR. 

when  that  was  completed,  she  must  see  how  the  next 
chapter  began.  While  thus  reading  she  soon  forgot 
everything  around  her;  and  when  her  mother  closed 
a  shutter  down  stairs,  preparatory  to  going  to  bed, 
Barbara  started  as  though  some  one  had  struck  her. 
She  hastily  put  out  the  light  and  jumped  into  bed, 
without  saying  her  prayers.  When  once  in  bed,  she 
trembled  so,  she  could  think  of  nothing  for  some 
time.  Barbara  knew  that  her  mother  never  allowed 
them  to  sit  up  at  night,  and  she  wondered  how 
she  could  have  disobeyed  so  easily.  She  forgot 
that  one  little  act  of  deceit  opens  the  door  to  many 
larger  ones.  She  had  deceived  in  allowing  Helen 
to  do  her  work,  while  she  read,  and  having  read 
several  times  at  forbidden  hours,  it  was  no  wonder 
that  her  greatest  failing  easily  conquered  her,  in 
stead  of  her  conquering  it.  Barbara  could  not 
sleep.  She  tossed  restlessly  about.  She  heard 
her  mother  go  to  bed,  and  then  all  was  quiet. 
Barbara  had  not  felt  very  comfortable  the  last  few 
days;  she  had  been  acting  wrongly,  and  so  her 
prayers  had  not  been  sincere.  Her  conscience 
troubled  her,  and  she  tried  to  put  it  off  by  promis 
ing  never  to  do  so  again.  At  last,  wearied  out, 
she  fell  into  a  troubled  slumber. 


X. 

REPENTANCE. 

"With  tears  of  anguish  I  lament, 

Here  at  thy  feet,  my  God, 
My  passion,  pride,  and  discontent, 
And  vile  ingratitude." 

IT  has  always  seemed  a  strange  thing  to  me  that 
people  should  call  daily  life  tame  and  monot 
onous.  While  the  soul  wages  a  constant  warfare 
with  the  evil  around  it,  while  it  struggles  onward 
and  upward  towards  a  higher  existence,  while  the 
heart  with  all  its  warm  affections,  is  sometimes  led 
astray,  even  by  its  most  generous  impulses,  while 
the  mind,  with  all  its  heaven  endowed  intellect 
can  read  everywhere  the  vastness  and  glory  of 
creation,  while  life  is  filled  with  deep  sorrow  and 
agonizing  conflicts,  and  blessed  with  the  sweet 
touch  of  joy, — there  must  be,  even  in  the  life  of  the 
most  humble,  thoughts,  feelings,  and  struggles, 
enough  to  make  one  day  entirely  different  from 
another.  Day  after  day,  no  matter  what  our  out- 

139 


140  HELEN   MA.CGREGOR;    OR, 

• 

ward  life  may  be,  the  soul-life  changes.  Through  the 
petty  cares  of  one  day  we  step  at  eventide  one  pace 
nearer  Christian  perfection,  or  one  pace  farther  off. 
No  standing  still  is  possible  to  the  immortal,  fight 
ing  each  step  of  his  way  towards  the  promised 
crown.  In  the  face  of  such  a  thought,  how  can 
daily  life  become  monotonous  ?  It  assumes  a  fear 
ful  responsibility  that  should  snatch  from  it  every 
feeling  of  ennui  or  careless  indifference,  that  should 
make  us  long  to  improve  each  hour.  For  hours 
are  the  little  rivulets  that  are  bearing  us  on  to  the 
river  of  death,  to  be  swept  out  into  the  great  ocean 
of  eternity. 

It  was  a  day  of  clouded  sunshine  to  both  Bar 
bara  and  Helen.  They  awoke  with  the  impression 
that  something  had  gone  wrong.  Barbara's  head 
ached,  and  she  felt  altogether  out  of  sorts.  Mrs. 
Neville  inquired,  almost  as  soon  as  they  came 
down  stairs,  if  the  light  was  burning  in  their  room 
when  she  closed  the  shutters ;  and  Nora  hastened 
at  once  to  assure  her  that  it  could  not  have  been, 
as  they  undressed  themselves  and  made  ready  for 
bed  at  once.  Barbara  was  on  the  point  of  confess 
ing,  but  she  checked  herself  when  she  remem 
bered  that  very  probably  her  mother,  as  a  punish- 


CONQUEST    A-ISTD    SAORIB^ICE.  141 

ment,  would  not  let  her  finish  the  book.  This  de 
cided  her.  She  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  giving 
up  the  story  without  knowing  how  it  ended. 
But  poor  Barbara  spent  a  miserable  morning. 
When  her  mother  at  family  worship  prayed  so 
earnestly  for  the  sinful  Helen,  Barbara  thought 
she  must  tell  at  once,  and  not  act  a  falsehood  any 
longer.  After  breakfast  she  looked  so  miserable, 
and  her  head  really  ached  so  badly,  that  her 
mother  sent  her  up  stairs  to  lie  down.  Nora 
darkened  the  room,  and  brought  the  cologne ;  and 
was  so  pitiful  and  kind  that  Barbara  could  hardly 
bear  it. 

As  for  Helen,  nothing  like  sorrow  filled  her 
heart.  Her  anger  and  indignation  only  increased. 
From  thinking  her  lot  hard,  she  had  come  to 
believe  it  the  worst  that  possibly  could  be,  and 
herself  the  most  ill-treated  girl.  She  looked  out 
at  the  bright  sunshine ;  and  the  song  of  birds,  the 
lowing  of  cattle,  the  drowsy  insect  hum,  the  rust 
ling  leaves,  and  murmuring  brooks,  all  seemed  to 
be  calling  her  to  come  forth.  It  was  a  hard  punish 
ment  to  have  to  stay  in  the  house  such  a  lovely 
day.  Helen  determined  that  she  would  endure  it 
no  longer.  She  had  heard  the  clock  strike  nine, 


142  HELEN   MACGKREGOR ;    OR, 

and  she  knew  they  must  all  be  in  the  study ;  so 
opening  and  closing  her  door  gently,  and  slipping 
quietly  down  stairs,  she  ran  off  into  the  woods. 
When  once  there,  she  thought  she  would  enjoy 
herself.  She  believed  that  the  reason  she  had  felt 
so  badly  was  because  she  was  shut  up  in  one  room ; 
but  she  soon  found  that  all  the  beauty  of  nature 

* 

had  no  power  to  "  minister  to  a  mind  diseased." 
She  walked  round  to  find  something  amusing,  but 
nothing  pleased  her ;  and  throwing  herself  down 
on  the  ground  she  gave  herself  up  to  the  thoughts 
she  could  not  banish.  One  thing  she  made  up 
her  mind  to,  as  she  was  idly  pulling  a  flower  to 
pieces, — that  she  would  not  go  back  to  Mrs.  Ne 
ville's. 

"No,"  said  Helen,  speaking  to  herself,  as  she 
was  in  the  habit  of  doing,  "  why  should  I  go  back 
there,  to  be  scolded  and  punished,  and  worried  all 
the  time  about  religion,  and  frightened  about 
dying?  Dying!  "When  I  am  only  fourteen, 
and  Old  Dugald  said  'my  cheek  was  like  the 
summer's  rose !'  Mr.  Ashton  used  to  say,  *  God 
orders  all  things,'  and  Mrs.  Neville  has  told  me 
many  times,  that  God  must  have  taken  me  from 
Mrs.  Eellim's  for  some  wise  purpose.  But  I  will 


CONQUEST    AISTD    SACRIITICE.  143 

not  believe  it.  If  God  is  a  God  of  love,  as  they 
say  he  is,  he  would  not  give  us  trouble  and  sorrow. 
I  will  go  back  to  Mrs.  Rellim's,  and  stay  until 
my  father  sends  for  me.  She  told  me  to  stay 
months,  if  I  wished,  and  I  was  foolish  to  leave  so 
soon.  It  cannot  be  long  before  I  once  more  go 
home, — home  to  dear  Scotland.  By  her  bonny 
braes  I  may  linger  the  day  long  with  none  to 
chide." 

Thus  Helen's  thoughts  ran  on,  and  an  hour 
passed  in  idle  dreaming,  when  she  was  roused  by 
hasty  footsteps,  and  saw  John  Rellim  coming  to 
wards  her.  Helen  got  up  quickly,  and  put  her 
self  on  her  guard  against  any  of  his  mischief.  But 
no  fun  sparkled  in  John's  eye;  he  merely  said, 
"Good  morning,"  and  was  hastening  on,  when 
Helen  stopped  him  with  the  question, 

"What  are  you  in  such  a  hurry  for,  John?" 

John  turned  towards  her  for  a  minute,  and  Helen 
was  startled  to  see  how  pale  he  was,  and  to  notice 
the  tears  in  his  eyes.  He  did  not  seem  at  all  like 
mischievous  John  Rellim,  as  he  said, 

"O  Helen,  I'm  going  for  the  doctor.  All  the 
children  have  the  diphtheria,  and  Gussie  died  this 
morning,"  and  John  ran  on  without  waiting  for 


144  HELEN   MACGKREGOR;    OR, 

her  sympathy;  and  indeed  Helen  would  have 
given  him  none.  Never  in  her  life  had  she  re 
ceived  such  a  shock;  and  coming  at  such  a  time, 
when  anger  and  pride  and  rebellion  were  reigning 
hi  her  heart!  She  had  laughed  at  the  idea  of  dy 
ing,  because  she  was  so  young  and  healthy;  and 
there,  at  that  moment,  death  had  taken  one  younger, 
and  full  as  blooming  as  she.  She  had  said  in  all 
the  pride  of  her  heart,  that  she  would  go  back  to 
that  house  from  which  God  had  seen  best  to  take 
her.  Struck  with  a  remorse  which  could  not  find 
vent  in  words,  she  threw  herself  on  the  ground, 
with  a  passionate  cry  for  forgiveness.  To  Helen, 
in  her  overwrought  state,  it  seemed  as  though  God 
had  purposely  taken  her  away  to  save  her,  and  she 
had  been  resisting  with  all  her  power  his  tender 
love  and  care.  Oh,  how  weak,  and  pitiful,  and 
unworthy  seemed  her  anger  and  pride  now,  in  the 
presence  of  death. 

What  matter  where  we  live,  or  how,  if  death 
find  us  ready  for  the  Master's  call?  In  order  fully 
to  appreciate  Helen's  feelings,  we  must  remember 
the  state  of  mind  she  had  been  in.  She  had 
thought  to  be,  and  to  do,  everything  good  by  her 
own  efforts,  and  failing  in  this,  she  had  defiantly 


CONQUEST    AISTD    SACRIFICE.  145 


said  to  herself  that  to  the  lot  that  was  given 
her  she  would  never  submit.  She  had  deter 
mined  to  brave  all  things.  Even  when  told  that 
God's  hand  would  guide,  she  had  refused  that 
guidance.  And  it  seemed  to  her  in  those  fright 
ful  moments  as  she  lay  there  on  the  ground,  that 
God  would  do  well  to  strike  her  dead  also.  She 
had  refused  the  winning  counsels  of  his  pure  re 
ligion  ;  she  had  resisted  the  influence  of  his  Holy 
Spirit  ;  and  yet  he  had  not  given  her  up,  but  had 
sent  a  thrilling  warning  to  meet  her  in  all  her  wil- 
fulness  and  pride.  She  wept  with  a  sorrow  as  wild 
as  her  gratitude  was  deep.  The  life  of  the  last 
few  weeks  passed  before  her,  stained  with  its 
self-righteousness,  anger,  and  neglected  duty;  and 
Helen  felt  humbled  to  the  very  dust.  She  remem 
bered  Mrs.  Neville's  earnest  prayers  that  they 
might  be  a  united  Christian  family,  having  one 
faith,  one  Saviour  ;  and  how  she,  in  secret,  had  re 
sented  thus  being  prayed  about!  Ah,  she  remem 
bered  everything  but  too  keenly,  down  to  that  very 
morning  when  she  had  left  her  home  in  anger  and 
stubbornness,  determined  to  return  no  more.  Her 
heart  yearned  for  reconciliation.  She  longed  to 

hear  Mrs.  Neville's  voice  whisper  peace  and  coin- 
is  K 


146  HELEN    M^CGKREGOR;    OR,, 

fort.  Helen  never  did  anything  by  halves.  If 
her  stubbornness  and  anger  had  been  deep  and 
lasting,  so  also  was  her  repentance.  She  deter 
mined  to  go  back  at  once  and  confess  all. 

Nora  had  begun  her  lessons  that  morning, 
but  her  mind  was  so  evidently  distracted  between 
Barbara's  illness  and  Helen's  punishment,  that 
Mrs.  Neville  soon  closed  the  book,  and  told  her  to 
bring  her  sewing. 

They  sat  quietly  sewing  in  the  study ;  neithei 
had  spoken  for  some  time,  for  Mrs.  Neville  was 
anxious  and  worried  about  Helen,  and  meditating 
some  new  way  of  winning  her  over.  The  after 
noon  before,  she  had  spent  much  time  in  earnest 
prayer  for  this  wandering  girl;  and  then  she  had 
gone  to  her  and  striven  to  show  her  her  sin,  and 
the  love  and  mercy  of  her  Saviour.  She  had 
prayed  with  her,  but  Helen  only  seemed  to  grow 
more  hardened ;  and  this  morning  Mrs.  Neville's 
heart  failed  her.  She  had  gone  for  strength  and 
guidance  to  the  only  source  whence  they  can  come, 
but  notwithstanding  this  she  felt  sad  and  disap 
pointed.  She  knew  the  fearful  responsibility  of 
training  up  a  girl  of  Helen's  disposition,  and  she 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  147 

longed  to  see  her  safe  in  the  arms  of  a  true  faith — 
one  of  Christ's  lambs. 

As  the  door  opened  and  Helen  entered,  Mrs. 
Neville,  supposing  her  to  have  just  come  from  her 
own  room,  almost  started  with  joy.  She  had  been 
desponding,  and  God  had  reproved  her  thus. 
Helen  entered  the  room  with  a  slow  step  and 
downcast  eye ;  but  when  she  got  near  Mrs.  Ne 
ville,  she  threw  herself  on  her  knees,  and  clasping 
her  round  the  waist,  she  exclaimed, 

"  Oh,  forgive  me,  forgive  me !  I  have  been  so 
wicked,"  and  then  bursting  into  tears,  she  laid  her 
head  in  her  kind  friend's  lap. 

"  Dear  Helen,"  said  Mrs.  Neville,  putting  her 
hand  on  the  young  girl's  bowed  head,  "we  all  err, 
and  go  astray  like  lost  sheep.  Thankful  should 
we  be  when  our  Father  shows  us  our  error,  and 
leads  us  through  the  path  of  repentance  to  lasting 
peace." 

"Oh,  you  do  not  know  how  wicked  I  have 
been  ;  I  ran  away  this  morning !" 

Mrs.  Neville  could  not  repress  a  slight  start  on 
hearing  this,  and  Nora  rose  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Do  not  go,  Nora,"  said  Helen  sadly,  "  I  wish 
you  to  know  just  how  wicked  I  have  been.  I 


148  HELEIST   IvrACG-ItEG-OR.;    OR,. 

feel  as  though  it  would  do  me  good  to  tell  every 
one  of  my  foolish  pride." 

Nora  sat  down  very  reluctantly.  It  pained  her 
to  hear  Helen's  confession ;  for  Nora  was  apt  to 
place  those  she  loved  on  a  pinnacle  of  goodness, 
and  refused  to  believe  in  her  own  heart  that  they 
could  go  wrong.  Helen  was  so  pretty,  so  lively, 
so  kind,  that  Nora  had  considered  her  almost  per 
fect,  and  had  welcomed  her  admission  to  the 
family  with  unbounded  joy.  But  day  after  day 
Nora  had  been  obliged  to  make  excuses  to  herself 
for  Helen's  conduct,  and  both  she  and  Barbara 
had  found  that  everything  was  not  so  delightful  as 
they  had  anticipated.  But  this  was  the  crowning 
point  of  Nora's  sorrow,  that  Helen  should  act  so 
stubbornly  towards  their  darling  mother ;  and  she 
longed  to  escape  without  hearing  all  the  sad  story. 
But  as  this  was  impossible,  she  took  her  seat  once 
more,  and  her  tears  mingled  with  Helen's,  as  the 
sorrowful  confession  was  made. 

Helen  told  all  unreservedly,  with  many  a  deep 
blush  and  irrepressible  sob,  from  the  breaking  of 
the  pitcher,  to  the  meeting  of  John  Rellim  in  the 
woods.  Helen's  character  had  this  redeeming 
trait,  that  when  once  convinced  of  wrong,  she 


CONQUEST    AKTD    SA-CRIITTCE.  149 

never  sought  to  excuse,  or  palliate  her  fault,  but 
blamed  and  reproached  herself  even  more  than 
others  did.  Mrs.  Neville  understood  better  than 
Helen  could  tell  her,  how  the  shock  of  Augusta's 
death,  meeting  her  as  it  did  while  filled  with  re 
bellious  feelings  towards  Go&  had  showed  Helen 
her  sins  in  such  a  startling  light  that  it  made  her 
almost  despair.  But  in  all  this  Mrs.  Neville  re 
cognized  the  hand  of  God.  It  pleases  him  to 
allow  some  of  his  lambs  to  go  through  green  pas 
tures  into  the  sweet  valley  of  eternal  peace ;  but 
others  must  first  bruise  themselves  among  the 
sharp  rocks  of  sorrow,  or  be  almost  lost  in  the 
quicksands  of  worldliness  and  pride,  ere  they  are 
caught  up  into  the  arms  of  Divine  love,  and  shel 
tered  safe  from  all  harm  in  the  fold  of  a  Saviour's 
bosom. 

Very  gently  Mrs.  Neville  talked  to  the  young 
girl.  She  assured  her  of  her  forgiveness,  and  then 
besought  her  to  turn  for  pardon  and  peace  to  the 
Saviour.  But  to  all  Mrs.  Neville's  entreaties, 
Helen  had  but  one  cry, 

"  Oh,  dear  Mrs.  Neville,  you  do  not  know  how 
wicked  I  have  been,  not  only  now,  but  always. 
How  can  I  ask  Jesus  to  forgive  me,  and  save  me, 

13  * 


150  HELEJST   IVTA-CGKREGOIt ;    OR, 

when  only  this  morning  I  said  I  did  not  love  him, 
and  I  would  not  try  to  do  right." 

"Ah,  well  then,  Helen,"  said  Mrs.  Neville 
sadly,  "  I  am  to  understand  that  you  never  intend 
to  come  to  the  Saviour.  You  always  wish  to  live 
on  in  this  way,  without  his  love  and  help." 

"  Oh,  no,  ma'am,"  answered  Helen,  very  much 
startled,  "  I  do  indeed  long  to  be  a  Christian,  I 
will  go  to  him  as  soon  as  I  have  learned  to  behave 
better." 

"My  dear  girl,  you  will  never  learn  to  behave 
better,  without  his  help.  Human  nature,  unas 
sisted  by  the  Divine,  must  always  stray  from  the 
narrow  path.  You  remember  Jesus  said,  f  I  came 
not  to  call  the  righteous,  but  sinners  to  repent 
ance.'  If  you  could  learn  to  be  good  yourself, 
what  would  be  the  use  of  a  Saviour  ?  Just  as  you 
are,  dear  Helen,  go  to  him,  tell  him  all  your  sins, 
confess  all  your  wicked  thoughts,  ask  him  to  have 
mercy  on  you,  and  to  forgive  you,  to  teach  you 
daily  and  hourly  how  best  to  govern  yourself,  and 
to  love  and  serve  him.  Will  you  do  it,  Helen, 
dear?" 

Helen  looked  up  eagerly,  into  Mrs.  Neville's 
face. 


CONQUEST    A.TXT)    SACRIFICE.  151 

"Are  you  sure;  are  you  quite  sure,  he  will 
hear  and  forgive  ?"  she  asked  passionately. 

"  I  am  sure,"  answered  Mrs.  Neville  solemnly. 
"Do  you  think,  Helen,  when  the  Saviour  was 
willing  to  come  here  to  earth,  and  die  on  the  cruel 
cross ;  willing  to  suffer  and  bear  all  he  did,  on  pur 
pose  to  save  you;  do  you  think  when  he  finds  you 
turning  to  him  with  a  prayer  to  be  forgiven  and 
saved,  that  he  will  turn  you  away?  Why,  my 
child,  if  he  did  not  wish  you  to  live  with  him  for 
ever  in  glory,  why  did  he  come  here  and  die? 
No,  Helen ;  such  love  could  never  turn  away  from 
a  supplicant." 

"  No,  never,"  said  the  girl ;  "  I  believe  it,  I  be 
lieve  it.  Pray  for  me." 

Mrs.  Neville  prayed,  and  when  the  prayer  was 
finished,  Helen  rose,  and  quietly  kissing  Mrs. 
Neville  and  Nora,  went  up  to  her  own  room. 
Very  different  were  her  feelings  on  entering  it, 
from  the  rebellious  ones  with  which  she  had  left 
it.  Now  Helen  knelt  by  the  little  bed  and 
breathed  forth  her  first  real  prayer, — a  confession 
of  sins,  a  cry  for  forgiveness,  and  an  earnest  asking 
for  God's  Holy  Spirit  to  guide  and  direct  her. 
This  was  the  beginning  of  Helen's  Christian  life. 


152  HELEN   jyT-A-CGHtEGrOR;    OR, 

With  many  a  tearful  struggle,  many  a  slippery 
footstep,  she  trod  onward  in  the  narrow  way;  but 
she  felt  there  was  ever  a  Saviour's  hand  to  guide 
and  help,  ever  a  divine  compassion  to  forgive. 
And  if,  in  after  years,  she  learned  to  walk  with  a 
surer  step,  and  firmer  faith,  she  still  looked  back 
with  grateful  thankfulness  to  the  hours  of  sorrow 
in  Brookfield,  which  were  the  starting  point  in  her 
Christian  career. 

Helen  did  not  leave  her  room  that  day,  except 
to  eat  her  dinner;  she  wished  to  stay  alone  and 
think.  Mrs.  Neville  went  at  once  to  Mrs.  Rel- 
lim's  to  offer  her  services.  Animosities  die  under 
the  hand  of  deep  sorrow.  Mrs.  Rellim  gladly  ac 
cepted  Mrs.  Neville's  aid,  and  she  did  not  come 
home  until  late.  Barbara's  head  still  ached ;  and 
Nora  felt  disconsolate  as  she  wandered  around  the 
empty  house.  She  could  not  go  to  Helen,  and  she 
did  not  like  to  disturb  Barbara.  She  read  a  little 
while,  but  Nora  was  not  much  of  a  reader,  and 
she  soon  laid  down  the  book  to  think  of  little  Gus- 
sie,  who  was  lying  so  cold  and  still  in  the  stately 
bed  chamber. 

After  a  while  Nora  put  on  the  tea  kettle,  toasted 
a  nice  slice  of  toast,  and  took  it,  with  a  cup  of  tea, 


CO3STQUEST    AISTD    SACRIFICE.  153 

up  to  Barbara.  But  Barbara  refused  to  eat,  and 
Nora  thought  she  would  not  trouble  her  by  telling 
her  of  Gussie's  death,  as  she  had  intended  to  do. 
Nora  then  got  supper  ready,  and  called  Helen, 
and  they  ate  alone,  as  Mrs.  Neville  had  told  them 
not  to  wait  for  her.  At  any  other  time  it  would 
have  been  grand  fun  for  Helen  and  Nora  to  eat 
alone,  and  for  Nora  to  sit  at  the  head  of  the  table 
and  pour  out ;  but  now  they  both  felt  too  sad  to 
give  anything  more  than  a  passing  smile.  Helen 
inquired  where  Barbara  was ;  and  then  the  conver 
sation  turned  on  the  loving  qualities  of  the  dead 
child.  Helen  after  supper  helped  Nora  wash  -the 
dishes,  and  they  both  sat  down  on  the  porch 
to  watch  the  glowing  sunset,  and  to  await  Mrs. 
Neville's  return ;  talking  in  sweet,  girlish  voices  of 
life's  responsibilities,  of  death's  dark  shadow,  and  of 
the  bright  life  beyond,  Nora's  fervent  faith  whis 
pering  the  sublime  promises  of  the  Bible  to  cheer 
the  timid  heart  of  her  companion. 

Thus  they  sat,  twined  in  each  other's  arms,  until 
the  stars  came  out  and  looked  down  on  that  picture 
of  bright,  youthful  loveliness — a  picture  of  beau 
tiful  young  life  dedicating  its  freshest,  purest  pos 
sessions  and  powers  to  the  -service  of  its  Maker. 


XI. 

BARBARA'S    CONFESSION. 

"  I  bar  thee  not  from  faults : 

God  wot  it  were  in  vain ! 
Inalienable  heritage 

Since  that  primeval  stain  ! 
The  wisest  have  been  fools, 

The  surest  stumbled  sore, 
Strive  thou  to  stand — or  fall'n  to  rise, 

I  ask  thee  not  for  more !" 

THE  next  morning  school  duties  recommenced 
as  usual.  No,  not  quite  as  usual;  for  Helen, 
although  feeling  happier  than  she  had  done  for 
some  time,  could  not  shake  off  the  idea  of  the  re 
sponsibility  of  life  which  she  had  realized  the  day 
before  for  the  first  time.  She  had  prayed  that 
morning  for  strength  and  guidance,  but  the  mem 
ory  of  a  recent  sorrow  still  left  her  smile  sad  and 
her  spirit  pained.  Barbara  said  her  head  was 
better,  but  she  looked  so  pale,  and  looked  so  little 
like  her  usual  self,  that  Mrs.  Neville  was  quite 
troubled;  but  Barbara  insisted  so  urgently  on  do- 

154 


CONQUEST   A.1ST>    SACRIFICE.  155 

ing  her  work  and  learning  her  lessons,  that  Mrs. 
Neville  consented. 

Poor  Barbara  wished  to  forget  her  wrong  doing. 
Unaccustomed  to  conceal  the  truth  in  the  slightest 
thing,  the  deception  she  had  practiced  about  the 
book  worried  her  almost  beyond  endurance.  But 
she  could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  confess.  Nora 
had  always  such  a  habit  of  saying,  "  Oh,  Barbara 
dear,  I  wish  I  was  like  you,  you  never  do  any 
thing  wrong,"  that  Barbara  now  could  not  bear  the 
idea  of  Nora's  knowing  how  she  had  acted.  And 
then,  too,  her  mother  must  know  it,  and  Helen. 
Barbara's  thoughts  were  ever  on  the  subject, 
whether  she  had  before  her  a  geography  or  an 
arithmetic,  and  she  made  so  many  mistakes  in  her 
music  lesson,  that  Mrs.  Neville  kindly  closed  the 
piano  and  told  her  to  wait  until  to-morrow. 

Thus  passed  the  morning.  As  soon  as  dinner 
was  over  Mrs.  Neville  went  to  Mrs.  Rellim's  and 
left  the  girls  during  the  study  and  sewing  hours. 
When  playtime  came,  at  four  o'clock,  Barbara 
went  and  lay  down  on  the  lounge  in  the  dining- 
room.  Nora  and  Helen  agreed  not  to  go  out,  but 
to  sit  there  and  keep  her  company. 

"Dear  sister,"  said  Nora,  leaning  fondly  over 


156  HELEN   3VtA.CGR,E&OK.;    OR, 

the  end  of  the  lounge,  "I  am  so  sorry  you  cannot 
come  out  and  play  and  enjoy  yourself." 

"Don't  worry  me,  Nora,"  said  Barbara,  pushing 
away  Nora's  hand  from  her  head. 

"  No,  I  won't,"  said  Nora,  leaving  the  lounge ; 
"does  talking  trouble  you,  sister?" 

"No." 

Nora  looked  quite  relieved.  She  tried  to  think 
of  something  pleasant  to  say;  and  knowing  Bar 
bara's  love  of  books,  she  asked, 

"How  do  you  like  Robinson  Crusoe?" 

She  could  not  have  hit  on  a  more  disagreeable 
subject.  Barbara  answered  peevishly, 

"Do  stop  asking  me  that  every  few  minutes, 
Nora?" 

Nora  looked  surprised. 

"I  only  meant  it  kindly.  How  your  head  must 
ache  to  make  you  speak  so.  Mother  says  I  may 
read  it  when  you  have  finished  it,  if  I  don't  blot 
my  copy  book  for  two  weeks." 

Barbara  made  no  reply,  and  Helen  just  then 
coming  into  the  room,  she  turned  towards  her,  and 
said, 

"I  wish,  Helen,  you  would  take  a  walk  in  the 
garden  with  me." 


CONQUEST    A.HTD    SACRIFICE.  157 

"Yes,  Barbara,  if  you  wish  it,"  said  Helen, 
looking  surprised.  They  went  out,  and  Nora, 
laying  her  head  on  the  lounge,  cried  quietly. 
Barbara  had  preferred  Helen  to  her.  While  Nora 
was  thus  mourning  over  her  sister's  strange  cool 
ness,  Barbara  had  determined  to  confide  in  Helen. 
She  knew  nothing  of  yesterday's  proceedings;  but 
she  knew  that  Helen  must  have  confessed,  or  she 
would  not  have  been  out  of  her  room.  Helen  had 
not  spoken  of  her  influencing  Barbara  to  read  in 
stead  of  first  finishing  her  work,  for  she  did  not 
wish  to  involve  Barbara,  but  it  had  worried  her  a 
great  deal  all  the  morning,  and  she  suspected  that 
that  was  in  reality  what  ailed  Barbara.  She  did 
not  like  to  mention  the  subject  first,  and  they 
walked  almost  to  the  end  of  the  garden  before 
Barbara  spoke. 

"Helen,  I  am  very  unhappy,  I  disobeyed  mother 
so  about  that  book;  and  I  have  kept  it  secret  so 
long" 

"It  was  all  my  fault,  Barbara.  I  have  been 
worried  about  it  all  this  morning.  I  was  going  to 
ask  you  to  let  me  tell." 

Barbara  looked  astonished.  She  had  expected 
Helen  would  try  and  persuade  her  that  she  had 

14 


158  HELEN   JVT.A.COREGK3R;    OR, 

done  nothing  wrong,  and  although  she  knew  it 
would  not  be  true,  yet  still  it  would  be  some  con 
solation  to  hear  it.  Helen  noticed  her  look,  and 
said  sadly, 

"I  don't  wonder  you  look  surprised  to  hear  me 
give  such  advice;  but  oh,  Barbara,  my  eyes  were 
first  opened  yesterday  to  regard  my  conduct  in  its 
true  light,  as  very  sinful  and  hateful  in  God's 
sight.  Ah,  if  he  will  only  help  me,  I  will  try  and 
lead  a  better  life.  I  say,  if;  I  know  he  will  help 
me.  I  felt  it  this  morning  when  I  said  my 
prayers." 

Barbara  was  much  surprised ;  and  not  only  sur 
prised,  but  pleased,  for  although  she  had  yielded 
to  temptation,  she  was  in  heart  a  Christian,  and 
she  rejoiced  to  think  that  Helen  was  trying  to 
walk  in  the  true  path.  She  put  her  arms  around 
her,  and  fondly  kissing  her,  said, 

"I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,  dear  Helen ;  now 
we  are  all  three  sisters  indeed." 

"  Sisters  forever,"  said  Helen,  returning  the  em 
brace,  "  and  now,  Barbara,  tell  your  mother  every 
thing,  when  she  comes  home  to  night.  Do,  please, 
promise." 

Barbara  stood  irresolute. 


.AJSTD    SACRIFICE.  159 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Helen,  generously,  "  I  will 
tell." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  I  must  do  it ;  mother  would  be 
still  more  sorry  to  find  me  such  a  coward." 

"  You  will  do  it  then,  Barbara,  my  sister,  will 
you  not  ?"  said  Helen  coaxingly.  Barbara  prom 
ised  that  she  would. 

Let  none  of  my  readers  be  surprised  that  Helen 
should,  on  the  first  occasion,  act  with  a  conscien 
tiousness  and  openness,  which  bespoke  a  long 
practice  in  Christian  warfare,  instead  of  the  expe 
rience  of  a  few  hours.  It  is  very  seldom  that  the 
young  disciple  yields  to  the  first  temptation.  In 
the  first  glow  of  love  and  hope,  we  are  strong.  It 
is  when  weeks  have  passed  away,  and  something 
of  our  first  ardor  has  abated,  that  we  become  less 
watchful,  and  fall  into  sin.  Besides,  the  memory 
of  her  own  unhappiness  was  too  fresh  in  Helen's 
mind  not  to  make  her  wish  to  guard  another 
against  it.  Then,  too,  Helen  wished  to  confess 
her  own  share  in  Barbara's  unhappy  fall.  As  I 
have  said  before,  she  never  did  anything  by  halves. 
Deep  and  true  had  been  her  repentance,  and  she 
therefore  wished  to  confess  all.  Helen  knew  that 
her  faults  were  not  conquered,  that  they  were  only 


160  HELEN"    IVEACGHEtEOOR,;    OR, 

sleeping.  She  knew  that  they  must  be  met  and 
subdued  by  the  help  of  her  Saviour,  day  by  day, 
as  temptation  revealed  them.  Yet  she  longed 
now,  at  once,  to  do  all  in  her  power ;  and  she  felt 
that  all  would  not  be  done  until  she  had  told  of 
her  deceitfulness. 

"  How  lonely  Nora  must  be,"  said  Helen,  after 
they  had  talked  a  while  longer,  "  shall  I  call 
her?" 

"No,  I'll  go  call  her.  Poor  child,  I  wonder 
how  I  could  have  spoken  so  crossly  to  her." 

"There  she  is,"  said  Helen;  and  they  both 
went  towards  her.  Nora  stooped  very  low  over  a 
lovely  white  rose,  that  they  might  not  see  the 
traces  of  tears  on  her  face. 

"  Is  it  not  beautiful  ?"  she  asked,  as  they  came 
up,  "  I  am  going  to  take  these  two  buds  to-morrow, 
to  lay  in  Gussie's  coffin." 

"  Most  lovely,"  said  Helen,  stooping  down  to 
smell  it. 

Barbara  stooped  also,  but  it  was  to  kiss  Nora's 
rosy  cheek.  Nora  looked  around  smiling. 

"Yes,"  said  Barbara,  "  I  am  trying  to  kiss  away 
the  memory  of  those  cross  words  I  said." 

"Never  mind,"  said  Nora,  returning  the  kiss, 


"  Oh,  Helen !  how  could  you  get  up  there."         p.  178. 


CONQUEST    -A-ND    SA-CRHPICJE.  161 

"  you  had  a  headache,  and  that  sometimes  puts  one 
out  of  humor." 

"  No,  no,  it  was  not  that,  Nora ;  I  have  been 
acting  very  wrongly,  and  it  has  worried  me,  and 
made  me  cross." 

"  It  was  my  fault,"  interrupted  Helen,  and  she 
narrated  the  circumstances,  generously  trying  to 
shield  Barbara;  but  Nora  could  not  help  looking 
shocked  when  she  heard  that  her  sister  had  actually 
sat  up  that  night,  and  kept  the  lamp  burning. 
This  was  a  great  trial  to  Barbara,  but  it  gave  her, 
what  she  had  not  had  before,  a  clear  idea  of  how 
deeply  she  had  sinned,  and  how  guilty  she  must 
appear  in  the  sight  of  God ;  and  leaving  her  young 
companions  abruptly  she  went  up  to  her  own 
room  to  ask  with  truly  penitent  tears,  for  forgive 
ness  and  for  strength  to  do  better.  But  if  Barbara 
felt  badly  then,  she  felt  much  worse  when  she 
saw  her  mother's  grieved  and  surprised  look.  In 
deed  Mrs.  Neville  could  scarcely  believe  that  Bar 
bara  would  act  so,  she  had  always  trusted  her  so 
fully.  Then,  in  words  which  Barbara  felt  she 
could  never  forget,  Mrs.  Neville  pointed  out  to 
her  the  danger  of  yielding  to  the  first  little  omis 
sion  of  duty. 

14  *  L 


162  HELEN   M-A-CGKREOOR,;    OR, 

"  And  to  think,  my  daughter,"  she  continued, 
"of  the  dreadful  responsibility  of  your  influence. 
You  have  come  out  before  the  world  as  the  Lord's 
child;  you  have  promised  to  follow  in  the  Sa 
viour's  footsteps,  and  to  do  all  in  your  power  to 
forward  his  cause ;  and  yet,  look  at  the  stumbling- 
block  you  were  placing  in  Helen's  way.  What 
do  you  suppose  Helen  must  have  thought  of  a  re 
ligion  whose  professors  were  influenced  so  easily 
to  go  astray  ?  How  could  you  have  hoped  to  win 
Helen  to  Christ,  after  first  leading  her  to  practice 
deceit?" 

"  Indeed,  mother,  I  never  thought  of  it  in  that 
dreadful  light." 

"I  believe  you  did  not,  my  child;  but  you 
must  remember,  when  you  do  wrong,  you  can 
never  tell  how  far  the  influence  of  that  wrong  ex 
tends.  It  is  a  fearful  thought  that  perhaps  some 
slight  fault  of  ours  may  keep  another  from  seek 
ing  Christ." 

With  these  solemn  words,  Mrs.  Neville  left  her. 
Barbara  had  never  before  in  her  life,  felt  as  she 
then  did  the  great  responsibility  of  being  a 
Christian.  She  saw,  for  the  first  time,  that  the 
honor  of  the  church  and  the  glorifying  of  Christ, 


CONQUEST    -A.3STD    SACRIFICE.  163 

were  entrusted  to  each  Christian;  that  as  he 
behaves,  the  world  will  judge  of  the  Master  he 
professes  to  follow.  Oh,  if  any  of  my  young 
readers  have  taken  upon  themselves  the  sacred 
name  of  Christian,  if  they  have  come  out  before  the 
world  and  promised  to  be  on  the  Lord's  side,  let 
them  pause  here,  and  ask  themselves  the  solemn 
question,  "Am  I  honoring  the  cause  of  Christ? 
Will  those  around  me  learn  to  love  religion,  from 
seeing  the  way  it  influences  my  life  ?  Do  I  show, 
by  each  daily  word,  and  act,  that  Christ  is  to  me 
above  all  else?"  If  you  cannot  answer  these 
questions  satisfactorily,  then  stop,  and  begin  anew. 
Ask  help  of  Jesus,  that  your  life  may  grow  into  a 
more  perfect  Christian  life,  that  others  "  may  see 
your  good  works,  and  glorify  your  Father  which 
is  in  heaven." 

The  next  day  the  funeral  took  place.  Very 
calm  and  sweet  the  little  face  looked  lying  on  its 
last  pillow.  Nora  laid  the  white  rose  buds  gently 
on  the  waxen  hand,  and  Helen  sobbed  aloud. 
Gussie  had  been  so  kind  to  her  in  the  short  time 
she  had  been  with  her,  that  she  had  learned  to  love 
her.  Helen  remembered,  too,  that  Gussie  was  the 
only  one  who  had  regretted  parting  with  her. 


164  HELEN 

No  one  stood  at  the  grave  but  the  stricken 
mother  and  a  few  friends,  for  Mr.  Rellim  was  a 
sea  captain,  and  not  at  home,  and  the  children 
were  all  sick.  How  did  Mrs.  Rellim  feel  ?  God 
alone  knew  in  that  solemn  hour,  whether  she 
heeded  the  warning.  To  a  mother,  giving  her 
child  back  to  him  who  gave  it,  it  is  a  bitter  trial, 
even  when  a  Saviour's  pitying  love  comforts  and 
assures  the  bereaved  one  of  a  blest  reunion.  But 
to  a  mother  standing  at  the  grave  of  her  little  one 
with  no  faith  in  God,  no  hope  of  a  future  bliss, 
no  comfort  in  a  Saviour's  tenderness,  wild  and  bit 
ter  indeed  must  be  that  parting.  To  the  sublime 
promises  that  form  such  a  precious  part  of  the  bu 
rial  service,  Mrs.  Rellim  could  not  listen,  and  she 
turned  from  the  grave  with  a  shudder,  to  go  home 
and  strive  with  all  of  human  power  to  save  her 
other  children.  And  if  they  were  saved,  would 
she  so  bring  them  up  that  they  might  one  day  go 
and  meet  their  sister  ?  . 

God  pity  the  mother  whose  darlings  he  takes  to 
heaven,  while  she  stands  far  away  and  looks  up 
with  straining  eyes  towards  their  bright  home,  in 
which  she  has  no  share ! 


XII. 

« 

SfJt.   tfELSOlf'S   FAJtH. 


"  Play  on,  play  on,  I  am  with  you  there, 

In  the  midst  of  your  merry  ring  ; 
I  can  feel  the  thrill  of  the  daring  jump, 

And  the  rush  of  the  breathless  swing. 
I  hide  with  you  in  the  fragrant  hay, 

And  I  whoop  the  smothered  call, 
And  my  feet  slip  up  on  the  seedy  floor, 

And  I  care  not  for  the  fall." 

Oj  EVERAL  weeks  had  gone  by,  and  things  were 
r^-J  wearing  a  cheerful  aspect  in  the  cottage.  It 
was  August,  and  that  month  was  always  a  holiday 
month  at  Mrs.  Neville's,  as  she  considered  it  too 
warm  to  keep  the  children  in  the  school-room. 
Those  weeks  had  brought  many  trials  for  Helen. 
Her  eye  would  flash  with  anger  at  a  slight  reproof, 
or  she  would  indolently  waste  her  time;  and  only 
gradually  was  she  learning  that  Christianity  must 
mould  one's  every  day  life.  No  answer  had  been 
received  to  Mrs.  Neville's  letter,  and  she  had  writ- 

165 


166  HELEN   MA-CGKREGOR, ;    OR, 

ten  another,  although  Helen's  longing  wish  to  go 
home  was  fast  vanishing. 

One  morning  while  Nora  and  Barbara  were 
dressing,  Helen  ran  into  the  room  exclaiming, 

"Oh,  girls,  I  have  been  thinking  of  such  a  splen 
did  thing, — a  pic-nic !" 

"A  pic-nic?"  they  both  said  at  once. 

"Yes,  why  not?"  said  Helen,  "we  could  take 
our  dinners,  and  go  to  the  woods,  and  stay  all 
day." 

"Oh,  that  would  be  splendid,"  said  Nora,  clap 
ping  her  hands,  "but  who  all  would  go?" 

"Why  our  sewing  circle,  of  course." 

"I  think  mother  would  not  object,"  said  Bar 
bara. 

"No  indeed,"  answered  Helen,  as  having  fin 
ished  dressing,  she  sat  down  on  the  bed;  "just 
think  of  staying  all  day,  and  eating  our  dinners 
off  the  ground." 

"I  hope  the  ground  will  be  cleaner  than  usual," 
said  Barbara,  laughing. 

"Well  now,  Barbara,"  said  Helen,  joining  in 
the  laugh,  "you  ought  not  to  run  down  the  ground 
that  way,  for  you  would  be  in  a  pretty  fix  without 
it." 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  167 

"I'm  afraid  she  would,"  said  Nora,  "but  I 
think  we'll  be  in  a  hungry  fix  after  a  while,  if  we 
don't  get  breakfast." 

"Oh,  sure  enough,"  said  Helen,  "I  really  don't 
believe  the  table  will  set  itself  if  I  stay  here.  Ah, 
Nora,  as  they  say  in  Scotland,  '  ye  have  the  lang 
head/ "  and  Helen  ran  down  stairs,  and  set  the 
table  with  so  many  extra  flourishes  of  fun  that 
Mrs.  Neville  was  induced  to  inquire  what  was  the 
matter.  Then  out  came  the  account  of  the  pic-nic, 
in  which  Nora  and  Barbara  joined  when  they  came 
down.  Mrs.  Neville  said  she  had  no  objections, 
but  that  the  arrangements  could  not  be  made  in  a 
day,  as  the  children  seemed  to  think.  Unexpected 
help,  however,  came  in  to  favor  the  girls. 

Mr.  Nelson,  Mrs.  Neville's  landlord,  was  a  fre 
quent  visitor  at  the  cottage.  Many  people  won 
dered  what  attraction  drew  the  polished,  wealthy 
bachelor  to  that  unpretending  home.  It  was — al 
though  Mr.  Nelson  would  not  have  acknowledged 
it  to  himself — the  charm  of  true  piety.  Mr.  Nel 
son  had  been  unfortunate  in  his  dealings  with  his 
fellow-men,  and  because  he  had  met  with  some 
bearing  the  name  of  Christian  who  did  not  act  up 
to  the  high  principles  they  professed,  he  made  light 


168  HELEN   MACGKREGOR;    OR, 

of  religion  and  its  professors.  He  had  tried  the 
world,  but  the  upright  honor  and  the  pure  mo 
rality  he  expected  to  find,  he  did  not,  and  he 
turned  from  all  mankind  with  something  of  a 
misanthrope's  feelings.  Much  of  this  was  owing 
to  the  manner  in  which  he  had  been  educated. 
His  father,  made  a  widower  by  the  birth  of  this 
only  child,  had  brought  him  up  to  an  almost 
purely  intellectual  life.  Howard  Nelson's  world 
had  been  his  books.  From  the  heroes  of  an 
tiquity,  from  the  wild  chivalry  of  the  middle  ages, 
he  had  at  his  father's  death  stepped  out  into  real 
life,  when  he  was  twenty-five,  expecting  to  find 
men  the  realization  of  what  history  paints  them. 
It  was  no  wonder,  then,  that  he  was  a  disappointed 
man.  The  only  firm  principles,  the  only  pure,  un 
sullied  faith  to  be  found  on  earth  he  rejected  when 
he  refused  the  religion  of  Christ.  He  gave 
up  society,  and  settled  in  Brookfield.  Here  he 
once  met  little  Nora  Neville.  Her  gay,  frank,  yet 
modest  manners  pleased  him ;  and  finding  that  she 
was  the  daughter  of  an  old .  friend,  and  lived  in 
one  of  his  cottages,  with  the  strange  whims  that 
we  sometimes  take,  he  called  at  the  house.  No ; 
I  do  wrong  to  call  it  a  whim.  God  alone  knows 


CO1STQTJEST    A.ND   SACRIFICE.  169 

how  often  he  causes  these  seeming  chances  to  work 
us  some  eternal  good.  All  that  Mr.  Nelson  saw 
in  his  frequent  visits,  led  him  to  recognize  the  pure 
faith  and  true  piety  of  which  he  had  fondly 
dreamed,  yet  never  before  had  realized.  This  was 
the  charm,  though  unconfessed,  that  drew  him  so 
often  to  the  pretty  cottage. 

Helen,  with  Nora's  large  apron  on,  was  kneel 
ing  in  the  yard,  scouring  the  knives,  as  Mr.  Nelson 
came  up  the  gravel  path,  and  walked  round  to  the 
kitchen  door  with  the  familiarity  of  an  old  friend. 
Helen  had  never  seen  him  before,  for  he  had  been 
for  some  time  absent  from  home  on  business.  Mr. 
Nelson  looked  at  her  with  some  surprise,  and  when 
he  went  in  inquired  who  she  was.  He  had  come 
up  to  invite  Barbara  and  Nora  to  go  and  spend 
the  next  day  at  his  farm,  about  half  a  mile  below 
Brookfield ;  now,  of  course,  he  included  Helen 
also.  He  only  staid  a  few  minutes,  setting  an 
early  hour  the  next  morning  to  call  for  them. 

The  girls  were  almost  wild  with  delight ;  Nora 
ran  out  to  tell  Helen,  and  rolled  her  over  and  over 
in  the  grass  until  she  cried  out  for  her  to  stop. 

"It  will  just  do  instead  of  our  pic-nic,"  said 
Helen. 

15 


170  HELEN    M^VCG-REGOR,;    OR, 

"  Oh,  a  great  deal  better,  Helen,  for  he  has  such 
a  splendid  place,  and  so  many  fine  things." 

The  rest  of  the  day  seemed  to  pass  very  slowly, 
even  to  Barbara,  who  could  usually  console  herself 
for  any  delay  with  a  nice  book.  But  all  days 
must  come  to  an  end;  and  the  girls  very  readily 
acquiesced  in  Mrs.  Neville's  proposal  that  they 
should  retire  half  an  hour  earlier  than  usual,  to 
prepare  for  the  extra  exertion  of  the  morrow. 
And  when  the  morrow  came,  three  pairs  of  eyes 
glanced  eagerly  out  of  the  window,  as  soon  as  they 
were  open.  Yes,  there  was  the  sun  just  beginning 
to  rise  above  the  horizon.  In  a  few  seconds  he 
came  up  with  a  splendor  that  quite  satisfied  even 
youthful  expectations. 

Everything  was  still  bathed  in  the  lovely  fresh 
ness  of  morning,  as  the  carriage  rolled  away  from 
the  door,  and  the  girls  kissed  their  hands  in  a 
merry  good-bye  to  Mrs.  Neville.  To  be  sure,  the 
distance  was  not  great;  they  could  easily  have 
walked  it;  but  Mr.  Nelson  was  bent  on  giving 
them  as  much  pleasure  as  possible ;  therefore  he 
called  in  his  carriage,  and  they  drove  round  two 
or  three  miles,  before  they  brought  up  at  the  farm 
house.  This  was  a  large  stone  building  with 


CONQUEST    AJSTD    SACRIFICE.  171 

barns,  out-houses,  pig-pens,  a  splendid  dairy,  and 
spring-house.  Mr.  Nelson  understood  well  how 
to  please  young  folks ;  so,  soon  as  the  girls  alighted, 
he  said, 

"Now,  scamper;  there  is  the  barn  to  hunt  eggs 
in,  and  down  there  is  the  spring-house,  and  be 
yond  is  the  woods.  Just  run  wild ;  but  when  you 
hear  the  dinner  horn,  come  back  here  to  the 
house." 

No  second  bidding  was  needed.  They  certainly 
did  run  wild.  The  great  barn  re-echoed  their 
racing  footsteps,  and  the  deep  woods  their  laughter. 
They  took  off  their  shoes  and  stockings,  and 
wraded  ankle  deep  in  the  little  brook.  They  picked 
the  wild  flowers,  and  chased  the  butterflies ;  and 
when  at  twelve  o'clock  the  dinner  horn  sounded, 
they  could  scarcely  believe  it  possible  that  the  day 
was  so  far  advanced.  But  when  they  got  back  to 
the  house,  a  pleasant  surprise  awaited  them.  Mr. 
Nelson's  own  house  and  grounds  adjoined  his  farm. 
They  had  passed  it  coming  down,  but  it  stood  so 
far  back  from  the  road,  and  was  so  shut  in  by 
trees,  that  Helen  had  not  noticed  it.  A  servant 
conducted  them  to  the  end  of  the  farm  grounds, 
and  opening  a  small  gate,  they  entered  what  seemed 


172  HELEIST   MA-CGKREOOIt;    OR, 

to  them  almost  a  fairy  scene.  Here  were  woods 
so  beautifully  laid  out  and  so  dense,  that  as  they 
entered  it  appeared  like  the  approach  of  twilight, 
instead  of  noontide.  Through  the  centre  ran  % 
small  stream,  with  many  a  tiny  cataract,  and 
spanned  by  rustic  bridges. 

"  How  delightful !  How  lovely !"  exclaimed 
Nora  and  Barbara.  But  fielen  said  nothing. 
Almost  breathless,  she  was  looking  at  the  beauty 
around  her.  Her  love  of  nature  was  too  deep,  her 
appreciation  too  keen,  for  words.  And  there,  in 
this  cool,  lovely  place,  they  were  to  dine.  Here 
was  spread  a  round  table  just  for  the  three ;  and 
the  exercise  of  the  morning  was  not  calculated  to 
diminish  their  enjoyment  of  the  chicken,  custards, 
peaches,  and  iced  milk  set  before  them.  The  meal 
was  certainly  well  digested  if  laughing  has  any 
thing  to  do  with  it ;  for  they  were  so  upside  down 
with  the  novelty  of  waiting  on  themselves,  and  of 
being  the  only  ones  at  the  table,  that  Nora  helped 
Helen  twice  to  potatoes,  before  she  began  to 
eat,  and  Helen  put  a  spoonful  of  gravy  in  Bar 
bara's  tumbler  of  milk,  and  so  Barbara  was  obliged 
to  drink  out  of  Nora's  glass. 

When  dinner  was  over  Mr.  Nelson  made  his 


CONQUEST  AISTD  SAORIIPICE.         173 


appearance,  and  they  wandered  over  the  beautiful 
grounds  together.  Such  lovely  flowers,  such  fine 
trees,  oh,  how  beautiful,  how  enchanting  !  Helen 
found  herself  indulging  in  her  old  dreams,  and  a 
rebellious  wish  arose  that  she  might  be  rich,  and 
enjoy  such  delightful  things.  But  she  already 
understood  that  what  is  God's  will  should  be  ours 
also.  She  did  not  yield  to  the  discontent  creeping 
over  her,  but  lifting  from  her  heart  a  prayer  for 
contentment,  gave  herself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of 
the  hour. 

How  true  are  the  Saviour's  words,  "  It  is  more 
blessed  to  give  than  to  receive."  Mr.  Nelson 
found  pleasure  in  watching  the  joy  of  his  youthful 
guests,  as  they  ran  and  jumped  and  laughed,  with 
perfectly  childish  glee.  Although  Helen  and 
Barbara  were  fourteen,  and  Nora  twelve,  they  were 
indeed  children  ;  for  Mrs.  Neville  had  never  given 
them  to  understand  that  .they  would  be  young 
ladies  at  fifteen.  In  all  such  matters  Mrs.  Neville 
was  very  old-fashioned.  She  believed  in  keeping 
children  children,  and  in  lengthening  out  the 
sweet  years  of  girlhood  as  long  as  possible. 

"  Ah,"  thought  Mr.  Nelson,  with  a  sigh,  "  they 
are  children  yet,  pure  and  true;  they  have  not 

15  * 


174  HELEN   MACGHREGrOR;    OR,, 

mixed  with  the  world,  to  learn  its  hypocrisy  and 
deceit." 

This  was  why  he  enjoyed  their  society,  and  tried 
to  please  them  as  he  would  never  have  tried  to 
please  older  people.  They  went  into  the  house, 
and  there  everything  bespoke  the  refined  taste  of  a 
gentleman,  and  the  home  of  an  intellectual  epicure. 
They  wandered  from  room  to  room,  and  listened  to 
Mr.  Nelson's  stories  of  curiosities  and  pictures. 
But  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  an  exclamation  from 
Helen  turned  all  eyes  in*that  direction. 

"A  harp!  a  harp!"  she  said  joyfully,  laying  her 
hand  caressingly  upon  it. 

Her  mind  flew  instantly  to  wild  mountains,  and 
an  old  grey-haired  minstrel ;  it  brought  her  home 
once  more  vividly  before  her. 

"A  harp!"  said  Nora.  "Oh,  Mr.  Nelson,  won't 
you  please  play  us  something?" 

"I  do  not  play,  Nora,  or  I  would  willingly 
oblige  you." 

Now  this  harp  had  belonged  to  Mr.  Nelson's 
mother,  and  had  never  been  played  upon  since  her 
death.  Mr.  Nelson  had  never  heard  it,  and  some 
thing  of  sacredness  clung  to  it. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,1"  said  Barbara ;  "  I  have  read 


CONQUEST    AND   SACRIFICE.  175 

so  much  about  harps  and  I  have  never  heard 
one." 

"Never  heard  a  harp?"  said  Helen,  looking 
astonished;  "ah,  then  you  cannot  know  what  you 
have  missed." 

Mr.  Nelson  smiled  at  Helen's  enthusiasm,  and 
said  playfully,  "  Perhaps  you  can  favor  us  with  a 
tune,  Helen?" 

"Oh,  will  you  indeed  let  me?"  said  Helen,  ea 
gerly.  "  I  have  not  played  since  I  left  Scotland." 

Mr.  Nelson  was  surprised,  and  anything  but 
pleased ;  but  when  Barbara  and  Nora  both  ex 
pressed  their  delight  at  Helen's  being  able  to  play, 
he  reluctantly  took  off  the  cover.  He  had  never 
heard  a  sound  from  his  mother's  harp,  but  in  his 
boyish  dreams  he  had  connected  all  sweet  sounds 
with  it,  and  he  did  not  like  to  have  the  spell 
broken  by  the  careless  twanging  of  a  school  girl. 
He  almost  made  up  his  mind  to  leave  the  room, 
but  sat  down  at  the  other  end,  while  Nora  and 
Barbara  waited  with  breathless  interest.  It  took 
Helen  some  time  to  tune  it ;  but  the  instrument 
was  a  fine  one,  and  the  first  chords  that  Helen 
struck  convinced  Mr.  Nelson  that  she  was  a  good 
player.  But  he  was  startled,  as  well  as  were  Bar- 


176  HELEN"    MACGKREGOR ;    OR, 

bara  and  Nora,  at  the  full,  rich  voice  which  burst 
forth  into  a  Scottish  song.  The  memory  of  old 
times  was  with  her  in  that  hour.  She  forgot  the 
listeners,  and  sang  with  a  passionate  utterance  of 
which  she  was  unaware.  She  began  with  the  free, 
wild  song, 

"My  heart's  in  the  Highlands,  my  heart  is  not  here, 
My  heart's  in  the  Highlands  a  chasing  the  deer ; 
Chasing  the  wild  deer,  and  following  the  roe, 
My  heart's  in  the  Highlands  wherever  I  go." 

Taught  by  the  wandering  Dugald,  there  was  a 
boldness  and  force  about  her  touch  that  accorded 
well  with  the  wild  music.  Song  followed  song, 
for  Mr.  Nelson  was  a  keen  lover  of  music.  And 
what  music  is  like  the  human  voice?  Oh,  ye  who 
have  the  gift  of  song,  use  it  for  good ;  for  nothing 
can  so  thrill  and  mould  the  heart  as  the  rich  sweet 
ness  of  a  fine  voice. 

Reluctantly  Helen  left  the  harp ;  but  the  after 
noon  was  waning,  and  Mr.  Nelson  wished  them 
to  take  another  good  play  before  supper,  for  as 
soon  as  that  was  over,  they  were  to  return  home. 

They  went  out  to  the  woods.  Mr.  Nelson  pro 
posed  "  hide  and  seek,"  and  joined  in  the  game 
with  a  boyish  ardor.  Those  grand  old  woods 


CONQUEST    -A-ND    SACRIFICE.  177 

with  their  large  trees,  made  splendid  hiding-places. 
The  game  was  a  merry  one,  though  rather  warm. 

"Oh,  Barbara,  isn't  it  splendid  fun?"  said 
Nora,  as  she  came  into  "baste"  her  cheeks  crim 
son  with  the  exercise. 

"Yes,  it  is  very  nice,"  said  Mr.  Nelson,  smiling, 
"  but  days  will  end  some  time,  and  now  I  think  it 
is  time  to  rest  before  supper." 

"  Ah,  but  it's  your  turn  to  hunt,"  said  Helen 
smiling,  "  and  so  I  move  we  have  just  one  more 
hide." 

"  Well  then,  just  one  more,  as  it  is  my  turn ; 
I'll  soon  find  you." 

"  Now  don't  be  too  sure,"  said  Helen,  as  she  ran 
off. 

Helen  had  noticed  near  the  spot  where  they  ate 
their  dinner,  a  tree  with  very  low  branches,  and 
she  determined  to  get  into  that.  She  had  on  a 
dark  chintz  dress,  and  this  would  scarcely  be  seen 
among  the  thick  leaves.  She  climbed  pretty  high 
up,  and  fixing  herself  comfortably,  awaited,  with 
many  a  little  laugh,  for  Mr.  Nelson  to  find  her. 

Barbara  was  soon  found,  then  Nora;  but  to 
Helen's  glee,  she  heard  them  all  running,  and 
hunting  her,  until  fearing  they  might  become 


178  HELEN   ItfCA-CGlOREQ-OR,;    OK, 

frightened,  she  whooped  two  or  three  times.  This 
brought  them  all  quite  near  her,  but  they  never 
thought  of  looking  up.  At  last,  Helen,  thinking 
they  had  searched  long  enough,  dropped  a  leaf 
down,  with  a  merry  laugh.  Mr.  Nelson  looked 
up ;  there  was  Helen's  happy  face  looking  down 
at  him. 

"See,  you  didn't  find  me  so  easily,  after 
all,"  she  said  laughing,  and  starting  to  come 
down. 

"Oh,  Helen,  how  could  you  get  up  there?" 
asked  Nora. 

Mr.  Nelson  said  nothing.  It  rather  shocked  his 
ideas  of  girlhood  to  find  Helen  climbing  trees  like 
a  boy.  He  did  not  know  how  she  had  been 
brought  up,  almost  wild,  and  that  climbing  a  tree 
or  a  rock,  was  no  more  to  Helen  MacGregor,  than 
lying  down  to  rest. 

He  had  been  charmed  by  her  singing  and  gay 
good  humor,  but  this  certainly  lowered  Helen  very 
much  in  the  eyes  of  the  fastidious  gentleman. 

"  Take  care !  Helen,"  he  called  out,  "  that  limb 
is  very  unsafe." 

But  he  spoke  too  late.  The  limb  bent,  then 
cracked,  and  Helen  came  rather  heavily  to  the 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  179 

ground.  She  uttered  a  slight  scream,  quickly  fol 
lowed  by  a  laugh.  But  Helen's  merriment  did 
not  last  long ;  Mr.  Nelson  lifted  her  up,  and  dis 
covered  that  she  had  sprained  her  ankle. 

He  gently  carried  her  to  the  house  and  laid  her 
on  a  lounge.  He  then  sent  for  the  housekeeper, 
and  being  something  of  a  doctor  directed  her  what 
to  do. 

Mrs.  Davis,  the  housekeeper,  was  a  good 
woman,  but  very  fussy.  She  made  such  a  lament, 
and  exclaimed  so  seriously  over  the  accident  while 
she  was  rubbing  Helen's  ankle,  that  Nora  and 
Barbara  were  quite  frightened. 

"  Oh,  it  will  not  be  much,"  said  Helen  heroic 
ally,  although  the  pain  was  very  great. 

"  How  will  you  get  home  ?"  said  Nora,  "  your 
ankle  is  swelling  so,  you  can't  put  on  a  shoe  or 
stocking." 

"  I  think  I  shall  have  to  make  her  my  prisoner 
for  to-night  and  to-morrow,"  said  Mr.  Nelson 
kindly,  "  and  then  we  will  drive  over  to  see  you." 

Helen  tried  to  smile,  and  say  she  could  go  home; 
but  it  was  as  much  as  she  could  do  to  keep  from 
crying  whenever  she  moved  her  foot ;  so  she  con 
cluded  she  had  better  stay. 


180  HELEN    MACGrREG-OR;    OR, 

A  delicious  little  supper  had  been  already  pre 
pared  in  the  same  place  where  they  had  taken 
dinner ;  but  as  Helen  could  not  go  out,  the  table 
was  reset  close  to  the  lounge  on  which  she  was 
lying.  Mr.  Nelson  took  supper  with  them,  and 
exerted  himself  to  clear  away  the  cloud  that  had 
settled  on  the  brows  of  his  youthful  guests. 

Nora  and  Barbara  were  so  sorry  for  Helen ;  and 
Helen  was  dreading  staying  in  th^at  strange  house 
all  night.  But  youth  soon  looks  on  the  bright 
side,  and  when  it  was  time  for  Nora  and  Barbara 
to  go  home,  they  were  all  in  good  spirits  again. 
Helen  sent  her  love  and  a  kiss  to  Mrs.  Neville. 
"  And  mind,  Barbara,  tell  her  not  to  be  worried, 
as  I  am  better." 

"Yes,  we  will,"  said  Nora;  "give  me  a  kiss, 
and  I  will  be  down,  in  the  morning  to  see  how  you 
are,  if  mother  is  willing." 

"Yes,  do,  Nora  dear,"  she  whispered,  "for  I 
shall  be  dreadfully  lonely.  And,  oh,  Nora,  water 
my  flowers,  please,  when  you  water  yours." 

"  Yes,  I  will ;  good-bye." 

"  Just  to  think,"  said  Nora,  as  she  got  into  the 
carriage,  "  that  such  a  lovely  day  must  be  so  short; 
it  seemed  to  be  short,  and  yet  when  I  think  how 


CONQUEST    A3TD    SACRIFICE.  181 

long  it  is  since  I  saw  mother,  it  seems  to  me  quite 
long." 

"Rather  paradoxical  that,  Nora,"  said  Mr. 
Nelson,  laughing,  "  the  day  seems  short,  and  yet 
it  seems  long." 

Nora  laughed  too.  "  Yes,  it  is  funny ;  but  that 
is  just  the  way  it  seems  to  me.  We  are  so  much 
obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Nelson;  you  took  so  much 
trouble  to  make  us  happy." 

"  And  you,  little  Nora,"  he  said,  chucking  her 
under  the  chin,  "  would  be  very  apt  to  be  happy, 
whether  any  one  took  trouble  about  you  or  not." 

"Yes,"  said  Nora,  "but  then  mother  says  we 
ought  to  be  happy,  when  God  gives  us  so  many, 
many  blessings." 

Mr.  Nelson  made  no  reply  to  this.  Perhaps  he 
thought,  with  some  bitterness,  that  all  his  wealth 
could  not  give  him  a  really  happy  moment ;  and 
he  looked,  with  a  sigh  Nora  could  not  understand, 
at  her  trusting  face. 

Mr.  Nelson  drove  them  home,  and  explained 
the  accident  to  Mrs.  Neville,  telling  her  he  would 
take  good  care  of  Helen. 

And  thus  ended  the  happy  day.  Nora  and  Bar 
bara  could  scarcely  be  got  off  to  bed,  they  had  so 

16 


182  HELEN" 

much  to  tell ;  and  Helen  sank  to  sleep  on  a  luxu 
rious  couch,  in  a  handsome  room,  with  a  little  sigh 
of  loneliness,  missing  the  merry  good  nights  of  the 
sisters,  and  she  would  willingly  have  exchanged 
the  costly  magnificence  of  her  chamber,  for  the 
little  bed  in  her  own  room.  It  was  a  mark  of  the 
growing  change  in  Helen  that  she  looked  around 
her  with  no  wish  to  remain  there.  She  was  learn 
ing  under  Mrs.  Neville's  teaching,  to  look  upon 
riches  as  they  should  be  looked  upon,  only  as  a 
great  trust,  giving  us  greater  opportunities  to  fur 
ther  our  Master's  cause,  and  a  mightier  responsi 
bility  at  the  judgment  day. 


XIII. 

HELEN  AT 


"Think  truly,  and  thy  thoughts 

Shall  the  world's  famine  feed  ; 
Speak  truly,  and  each  word  of  thine 

Shall  be  a  faithful  seed  ; 
Live  truly,  and  thy  life  shall  be 
A  great  and  noble  creed." 

HELEN'S  visit  tf  Oakdale,  for  that  was  the 
name  of  Mr.  Nelson's  place,  proved  anything 
but  dull.  She  awoke  the  first  morning  with  an 
earnest  wish  to  go  home,  and  a  disagreeable  idea 
of  how  long  the  day  would  be.  But  she  little 
knew  the  many  sources  of  pleasure  that  lay  hidden 
in  those  vast  rooms  ;  and  Mr.  Nelson  was  far  too 
kind  to  let  his  young  guest  suffer  for  want  of 
amusement.  There  were  portfolios  full  of  the 
most  exquisite  engravings,  the  collection  Mr.  Nel 
son  had  made  while  travelling  ;  books  full  of  pic 
tures  and  pleasant  reading;  rare  curiosities  and 
wonderful  puzzles,  over  which  Helen  could  have 

183 


184  HELEN   MACGKREOOR;    OR, 

spent  days.  Each  morning  Mrs.  Davis  assisted 
her  to  the  lounge  by  the  open  window  which 
looked  out  on  the  old-fashioned  garden  and  deep 
woods  beyond.  And  then  Mr.  Nelson  always 
came  hi  to  pay  what  Helen  called  his  "  doctor's 
visit ;"  but  unlike  other  doctors,  he  always  brought 
something  pleasant,  a  new  book,  or  puzzle,  or  pic 
ture  ;  and  always  left  a  dish  of  fine  peaches  beside 
her  on  a  little  stand.  No  wonder  then  that  the 
three  days'  captivity  passed  very  pleasantly  to 
Helen.  Either  Nora,  or  Barbara,  or  Mrs.  Neville, 
called  every  day ;  and  finally  Mrs.  Neville  on  one 
of  her  visits  pronounced  ftelen  well  enough  to 
come  home  the  next  day,  and  Mr.  Nelson  had 
promised  to  bring  her  in  the  carriage  that  after 
noon.  As  she  lay  there  on  the  lounge  and  gazed 
idly  out  on  the  lovely  landscape,  she  gave  a  little 
sigh.  To  be  sure  she  did  wish  to  go  home  and 
be  with  them  all ;  but  she  could  not  help  thinking 
that  there  would  be  no  Mrs.  Davis  there  to  pet 
her  and  to  wait  on  her,  and  no  Mr.  Nelson  to 
amuse  her.  The  idea  of  work  seemed  rather  dis 
tasteful.  But  Helen  would  not  indulge  herself  in 
such  thoughts.  She  remembered  in  the  Baptis 
mal  vow  which  she  intended  taking  upon  herself. 


CONQUEST    A-ND    SACRIFICE.  185 

that  she  must  promise  to  be  contented  in  that  state 
in  which  God  had  placed  her,  and  she  raised  a 
sincere  prayer  for  help  to  be  enabled  to  go  home 
cheerfully,  and  to  return  to  her  duties  with  none 
of  the  fault-finding  spirit  of  other  days.  Helen 
had  just  regained  her  cheerful  spirits  once  more, 
when  Mr.  Nelson  entered. 

"  Well  my  little  prisoner,  this  is  your  last  morn 
ing  here ;  this  afternoon  you  get  your  release ;  and 
I  expect  you  are  very  glad,  too.  It  is  rather  dull, 
being  shut  up  such  lovely  days." 

"  Oh,  I  have  not  been  dull ;  how  could  I  be 
when  you  have  been  so  kind  and  have  taken  so 
much  trouble  for  me  ?  I  am  sure,  sir,  I  shall  never 
forget  it.  I  do  wish  I  could  do  something  for 
you." 

"Well,  you  can,"  said  Mr.  Nelson,  smiling, 
"  you  can  sing  for  me ;  and  mind,  I  shall  not  be 
contented  with  one,  two,  or  three  songs.  I  must 
hear  all  I  can  now,  as  there  is  no  telling  when  you 
will  sprain  your  ankle  again  and  have  to  stay 
here." 

"Well,"  said  Helen,  laughing,  "I  do  not  mind 
the  staying  here,  but  I'd  rather  be  excused  from 
the  sprain.  Shall  I  go  down  stairs?" 


186  HELEN   IVCACGJ-REe-OR,;    OR, 

"  No,  no,  you  must  be  a  little  careful  yet ;  I 
will  have  the  harp  brought  up." 

The  harp  was  brought  and  placed  beside  the 
lounge,  and  Helen  was  invited  to  sing.  She  was 
too  little  initiated  into  the  fashions  of  society  to 
wait  to  be  coaxed  until  the  pleasure  of  hearing  is 
entirely  destroyed  by  the  trouble  of  obtaining.  So 
Helen  sang  on,  in  her  own  fondness  carried  away 
by  the  spirit  of  the  song,  forgetful  of  her  listener ; 
only  interrupted,  if  she  paused,  by  Mr.  Nelson's, 
"  one  more,"  until  Helen  looking  up,  smiling  said, 
"  Indeed  I  do  not  know  another  one." 

"  Not  another  one  ?    Just  think." 

"  Indeed  I  have  thought,  and  I  am  sure  I  do 
not  know  any  more." 

"  Well,  then  I  suppose  I  must  be  contented ; 
but  who  did  teach  you  to  play,  Helen  ?" 

"Dear  old  Dugald  Stuart.  He  is  one  of  those 
wandering  harpers  now  almost  gone  from  Scot 
land." 

"  He  must  be  a  fine  player,"  said  Mr.  Nelson. 

"  Oh,  if  you  could  only  hear  him,"  said  Helen, 
enthusiastically,  "it  seems  to  me  I  can  see  him 
now,  with  his  long  white  hair,  sitting  on  the  rocks, 
harp  in  hand,  and  the  dark  pine  trees,  the  blue 


CONQUEST    A.JXD    SACRIFICE.  187 

loch,  and  the  wild  mountains  around  him.  Ah, 
there  is  no  land  like  Scotland.  I  love  it." 

Mr.  Nelson  smiled  a  little  as  he  asked,  "  What 
makes  you  love  it?" 

"  All  things ;"  answered  Helen  promptly.  "  It  is 
my  native  land,  and  the  sky  seems  bluer,  and  the 
sunshine  brighter.  Through  many  childish  years 
I  wandered  almost  wild  amidst  its  glens  and 
mountains.  I  learned  to  love  the  grandeur  of  its 
wintry  desolation,  as  well  as  the  flowery  beauty  of 
its  summer." 

"Yes,  I  understand,"  said  Mr.  Nelson,  "you 
love  Scotland  for  its  beauty,  but  that  alone  is  a 
frail  tenure  to  hold  your  love  by." 

"  It  has  always  been  beautiful  to  me,"  replied 
Helen,  "although  many  do  not  think  with  me 
there ;  but  I  love  it  better  for  the  great  and  noble 
dead;  for  the  free  and  independent  spirit  of  its 
people.  Tell  me,  when  did  the  Scots  ever  submit 
tamely  to  subjugation  ?  'Tis  the  land  of  Wallace 
and  of  Bruce.  Ah,  if  you  were  a  Scotchman,  you 
would  not  ask  me  why  I  love  Scotland." 

"  I  am  Scotch,"  quietly  said  Mr.  Nelson. 

Helen  almost  jumped  from  the  lounge,  "Are 
you  indeed  Scotch  ?  Oh,  then  you  have  been  to 


188  HELEN   MACGKREGOR,;   OR,, 

Scotland;  you  love  it;  and  you  know  all  about  it, 
and  I  expect  you  have  only  been  teasing  me." 

"Yes,  I  have  been  to  Scotland,  but  I  never 
lived  there,  for  my  parents  brought  me  to  this 
country  when  I  was  only  six  months  old." 

"Then  you  do  not  know  what  it  is  to  live 
there,"  said  Helen,  a  little  disappointed. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Nelson,  smiling,  "  but  I  think 
I  prefer  living  in  America.  Do  not  misunderstand 
me  though ;  I  like  Scotland,  and  the  sturdy  prin 
ciples  of  its  people.  I  also  admire  your  two 
favorite  heroes,  Wallace  and  Bruce ;  although  his 
tory  says  that  Wallace  was  blood-thirsty,  and 
Bruce  the  fickle  and  selfish  earl  of  Carrick. 

"  Oh,  do  not  say  so,"  said  Helen ;  "  it  was  the 
proud  nobility,  who  would  not  admit  Wallace's 
superiority,  that  slandered  him^  and  you  must  re 
member  that  when  the  earl  of  Carrick  became 
king  Robert  the  Bruce,  he  lost  his  follies,  and  was 
a  noble  king." 

"  Well,  well,  Helen,  have  your  own  way,"  said 
Mr.  Nelson  kindly,  "  I  too  have  passed  through  the 
age  of  hero  worship.  While  in  Scotland  I  stood 
on  the  banks  of  the  Carron,  and  in  imagination 
heard  the  call  of  Wallace, 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  189 

"  Wako,  carl  of  Carrick  !  wako  to  fame, 
And  make  Do  Bruce  the  honored  name !" 

"You  will  understand,  Helen,  as  you  grow  older, 
how  all  these  things  cease  to  interest." 

"  Do  not  tell  me  that ;  I  can  never  believe  that 
great  and  noble  actions  cease  to  charm  and  move 
our  deepest  feelings." 

"  They  would  not  if  they  were  found  in  the  pre 
sent  ;  but  great  actions  live  only  in  the  past.  Do  you 
think  there  are  many  women  of  the  present  day  who 
would,  like  the  beautiful  Margaret  Seaton,  hold 
their  arm  in  the  staple  of  the  door,  until  it  was 
crushed,  to  defend  their  king  ?" 

"Not  many"  said  Helen,  shrewdly,  "and  I 
dare  say  there  were  not  many  such  in  those  days. 
But,"  she  added  timidly,  "  Mrs.  Neville  has  taught 
nie  that  there  are  actions  performed  just  as  heroic 
ally,  and  for  nobler  purposes,  in  these  days,  but 
they  do  not  become  historical." 

"  What,  for  instance  ?"  asked  Mr.  Nelson,  skep 
tically. 

Helen  blushed  deeply ;  it  was  one  thing  to  listen 
tOj  and  imbibe  Mrs.  Neville's  instructions  and 
ideas,  but  quite  another  thing  for  one  as  inex 
perienced  to  tell  them  to  the  grave  gentleman 


190  HELEN   MA-CGKREOOR,;    OR, 

beside  her,  who  she  instinctively  felt  cared  nothing 
for  religion. 

Mr.  Nelson  repeated  the  question,  and  Helen  said, 

"  I  cannot  indeed  make  you  understand,  as  Mrs. 
Neville  could ;  but  I  was  one  day  longing  to  live 
in  heroic  times,  when  she  reminded  me  that  all 
persons  could  redeem  their  lives  from  tameness, 
and  make  them  heroic  in  self-sacrifice,  by  follow 
ing  the  Saviour.  She  said  too  that  there  was 
many  a  heart  struggle  between  duty  and  inclina 
tion  far  exceeding  the  physical  sufferings  which 
we  read  of  and  admire." 

Helen  stopped,  for  she  saw  Mr.  Nelson  did  not 
relish  the  turn  which  the  conversation  was  taking. 
Mr.  Nelson  admired  the  simple  faith  that  could 
believe  in  such  human  goodness,  but  he  had  it  not, 
and  therefore  it  irritated  him  to  hear  of  it;  it 
seemed  like  a  closed  door  which  he  could  not 
enter,  but  always  saw,  and  beyond  which  he  felt 
certain  lay  the  happiness  he  was  ever  craving. 
So  without  answering  Helen's  remark  he  went 
back  to  their  former  topic. 

"How  is  it,"  he  said,  "you  know  so  much 
about  Scottish  heroes  ?  I  thought  you  had  never 
studied  history." 


CONQUEST    A.NT3    SACRIFICE.  191 

"  I  am  just  beginning  it,"  said  Helen,  smiling, 
"  but  I  learned  the  history  of  Scotland's  heroes  in 
a  much  pleasanter  way.  Many  a  long  winter  even 
ing  I  have  sat  and  listened  to  old  Margie's  tales 
and  legends  of  which  I  never  tired.  The  peat 
fire  would  be  our  only  light,  and  old  Margie  in  a 
cap  and  short  gown  would  knit  industriously  all 
the  time,  while  I  would  sit  listening  and  idly  look 
ing  into  the  fire,  imagining  I  could  see  there 
enacted  all  she  was  telling  me.  It  was  there  I 
heard  of  the  daring  deeds  of  William  Wallace ; 
of  the  bravery  of  Robert  Bruce ;  the  fearful  name 
of  the  black  Douglass ;  the  sorrows  of  the  lovely 
Mary,  Queen  of  Scotland;  and  many  heroic  le 
gends  of  fair  ladies,  which  live  in  the  memories  of 
the  old  and  are  handed  down  from  generation  to 
generation.  It  seemed  to  me  last  Sunday  as  though 
I  was  once  more  listening  to  old  Margie  when  our 
rector  spoke  of  the  good  Lord  James  of  Douglass." 

"Rather  a  strange  subject  for  the  pulpit,"  said 
Mr.  Nelson,  with  a  slight  curl  of  the  lip. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Helen,  hastily,  "not  the  way  he 
used  it ;  it  was  beautiful,  and  made  me  long  to  be 
what  he  said  we  should  be." 

"But  how  did  he  use  it?"  asked  Mr.  Nelson, 


192  HELEN  :VLA.CGHREGK>:R;  OR,, 

impelled  to  hear  more  of  a  subject  that  he  was  al 
ways  shunning. 

"Ah,  I  wish  you  could  have  heard  him ;  I  can 
not  tell  it  as  he  did,  but  I'll  try  and  tell  you  what 
he  meant.  It  was  communion  Sunday,  and  we 
don't  have  a  sermon  then,  only  a  few  remarks ; 
and  Mr.  Clayton,  after  speaking  of  the  wonderful 
love  of  tTesus,  and  of  all  he  had  done  for  us,  said 
that  King  Robert  Bruce  on  his  death-bed  requested 
the  Earl  of  Douglass  to  take  his  heart  to  the  Holy 
Land.  Douglass  had  a  silver  case  made  in  which 
he  put  the  heart  of  Bruce,  and  wore  it  round  his 
neck  by  a  chain.  On  his  way  to  the  Holy  Land, 
he  stopped  in  Spain,  and  was  persuaded  to  join  in 
a  battle  against  the  Saracens.  The  Scots  were  de 
feated  ;  and  Douglass  was  so  surrounded  by  Moors 
that  he  could  not  make  his  escape ;  so  taking  from 
his  neck  the  heart  of  Bruce  he  flung  it  into  the 
midst  of  the  enemy,  exclaiming,  'Forward,  heart 
of  Bruce!  whither  thou  leadest,  Douglass  will  fol 
low  or  die,'  and  rushing  forward  to  the  place  where 
it  fell  he  was  immediately  killed.  Then  Mr. 
Clayton  added,  'so  the  Christian  should  be  willing 
devotedly  to  follow  wherever  Christ  thinks  best  to 
lead  him :  whether  into  sorrow  or  trouble,  or  what- 


CONQUEST   -A-TTD    SACRIFICE.  193 

ever  adversity  God  thinks  good  for  him,  even 
though  it  be  unto  death.  For  after  all,  that  was 
only  a  fulfilment  of  the  prayer  we  pray  every  day, 
'Thy  will  be  done.'  Can  you  understand  my 
poor  way  of  telling  it,  Mr.  Nelson  ?" 

"Very  well.  You  have  a  good  memory, 
Helen." 

"Yes,  I  have." 

Mr.  Nelson  was  rather  amused  at  this  frank 
admission.  But  if  he  had  said,  "  Helen,  you  are 
pretty,"  she  most  likely  would  have  acknowledged 
that  as  well ;  for  Helen  knew  too  little  of  the  ways  of 
the  world  to  know  that  it  is  fashionable  to  tell  an  un 
truth  rather  than  to  say  anything  favorable  of  your 
self.  In  the  same  way  she  talked  freely  with  any 
one ;  not  that  she  was  bold,  or  forward,  but  she 
liked  to  talk,  and  had  never  been  taught  "that 
little  girls  must  be  seen  and  not  heard."  And  at 
Mrs.  Neville's  cottage,  religion  was  so  thoroughly 
the  every  day  life  of  the  family,  that  to  talk  of  it 
seemed  only  natural. 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  Mr.  Nelson  after  a  pause, 
"  that  such  a  zealous  admirer  of  Scotland  can  be 
content  here.  Don't  you  long  to  go  back  ?" 

"  I  did,"  answered  Helen ;  "  I  do  not  now." 

17  s 


194  HELEN    lyi^CGOREG-OR,;    OH, 


"  And  why  not  now  ?" 

"  Because,"  she  replied,  "  although  it  was  pleas 
ant  to  lead  the  life  I  led,  yet  there  I  never  went  to 
Sunday-school;  I  never  heard  of  a  better  and 
happier  life.  There  are  plenty  of  Sunday-schools 
there  ;  but  my  father  would  not  allow  me  to  go." 

"  The  same  subject,"  thought  Mr.  Nelson  ;  and 
taking  out  his  watch  he  said,  "  I  must  go  now  ; 
be  ready  to  start  at  five  o'clock  ;  and  mind,  I  shall 
expect  to  hear  that  good-bye  song  before  we  go." 

"  Yes,"  said  Helen  laughing,  "  I  shall  sing  it  so 
sadly  that  you'll  begin  to  cry." 

"  If  I  do  you  will  certainly  be  frightened,"  said 
Mr.  Nelson  as  he  went  out. 

Helen  remained  alone;  she  ate  her  dinner, 
looked  over  the  pictures,  and  tried  all  the  puzzles 
once  more  ;  practised  a  little  on  the  harp,  and  five 
o'clock  came  all  too  soon.  Helen  sang  the  good 
bye  song,  and  although  Mr.  Nelson  laughed,  in 
stead  of  crying,  yet  he  felt  far  more  sorry  to  part 
with  Helen  than  she  supposed.  He  led  a  lonely 
life;  Helen  had  a  good  memory,  and  a  High 
lander's  gift  of  talking  well,  and  she  entertained 
him.  Then  too  "  the  innocence  and  truth  of  early 
youth  still  lingered  around  her  ;"  and  Mr.  Nelson 


CONQUEST    ^ND    SA-CrHITICE.  195 


had  seen  too  much  of  the  world  not  to  prize  those 
fleeting  hours.  Helen  had  also  the  greatest  of  all 
charms,  true  religion  ;  and  in  spite  of  his  skepti 
cism,  as  Mr.  Nelson  drove  home,  after  leaving 
Helen  at  the  cottage,  he  sighed  for  the  pure  faith 
and  Christian  life  which  he  saw  practised  there. 
Helen's  words,  too,  still  haunted  him.  He  had 
been  a  great  dreamer  ;  he  had  longed  to  do  some 
great  thing,  that  should  make  him  rank  among 
the  "  few  immortal  names  that  were  not  born  to 
die."  But  the  true  heroism  of  duty  fulfilled  af 
any  cost,  the  beauty  of  self-sacrifice,  the  high  mis 
sion  of  a  Christ  follower,  the  wish  to  have  his 
name  written  on  the  roll  of  honor  in  the  court  of 
heaven,  and  ever  show  a  firm  loyalty  to  Jehovah 
Jesus,  the  King  of  kings,  —  of  all  these  he  had  never 
truly  thought  until  Mr.  Clayton's  illustration  had 
waked  them  into  life.  And  as  Mr.  Nelson  entered 
Oakdale,  he  said  with  Agrippa  of  old,  "  Almost 
thou  persuadest  me  to  be  a  Christian." 


XIV. 

THE  TEA-PARTY. 

"  Not  long  does  the  life  blood  career  through  the  heart : 
Like  the  glory  of  summer  we  come  and  depart ; 
Yet,  e'en  like  that  glory,  if  gentle  and  kind, 
We  leave  hoth  a  beauty  and  fragrance  behind." 

HOW  hard  it  is  to  settle  down  to  the  routine 
of  every  day  duties  after  indulgence  in  a 
pleasant  visit,  or  a  holiday!  Helen  found  it  par 
ticularly  so  after  her  return  home.  She  awoke  the 
next  morning  with  a  disappointed  feeling,  and  a 
sense  of  something  pleasant  gone,  which  made  the 
things  around  her  lose  their  usual  charm.  But 
Helen  knew  that  discontent  was  a  sin ;  and  kneel 
ing  down,  she  prayed  earnestly  for  a  cheerful,  con 
tented  spirit.  And  the  Saviour  heard  and  an 
swered.  She  arose,  determined  to  think  no  more 
of  Oakdale,  and  its  easy  life.  But  when  she  went 
down  stairs,  and  was  met  by  Nora  with  a  hearty 
kiss,  and  the  lively  exclamation,  "  Oh,  Helen,  I 
have  something  so  splendid  to  tell  you,"  the  last 

196 


CONQUEST   A.JXT)    SA.CrtllT'ICE.  197 

cloud  vanished,  and  she  entered  into  the  plans 
proposed  with  a  delight  that  dispelled  all  thoughts 
of  regret. 

Nora's  important  news  was,  that  Monday  was 
Barbara's  birth-day,  and  they  would  have  a  tea- 
party  as  they  always  had  on  their  birth-days. 

"And  doesn't  it  happen  well?"  said  Nora; 
"  Barbara's  birth-day  comes  in  August,  and  mine 
in  January ;  so  we  always  have  two  parties  a  year. 
"When  does  yours  come,  Helen  ?" 

"  Why,  in  January  too, — the  first." 

"  Oh  dear,  and  mine  is  the  eighth,  that  would 
be  too  close  together." 

"  You  and  Helen  will  have  to  celebrate  yours 
the  same  day,"  said  Mrs.  Neville. 

"  Yes,"  said  Nora,  "  I  suppose  we  will ;  but  you 
see,  mother,  I  was  in  hopes  we'd  get  three." 

"I  am  so  sorry  you  can't  walk  much  yet, 
Helen,"  said  Barbara,  "  for  we  are  going  out  to  in 
vite  the  girls  this  afternoon,  and  we  wanted  you  to 
go  with  us." 

Helen  looked  disappointed ;  girls  enjoy  inviting 
company  so  much. 

"  Don't  you  think  you  could  go  with  us  if  we 
sat  down  to  rest  often  ?"  asked  Nora. 


198  HELE1ST   MACGHIEQ-OR,;    OR., 

"  Where  would  we  sit  down  ?"  said  Barbara, 
laughing. 

"  Oh,  on  the  road-side,  or  door-steps ;  you  know 
that  would  be  allowable  when  we  are  taking  an 
invalid  out." 

There  is  no  knowing  what  the  invalid  would 
have  said,  but  Mrs.  Neville  interfered, 

"If  Helen  wishes  to  run  and  play  on  Monday, 
she  had  better  keep  quiet  until  then,  so  that  her 
ankle  will  feel  strong  again." 

This  decided  the  question ;  the  fear  of  not  being 
able  to  play  on  Monday  gave  Helen  courage  to 
watch  Nora  and  Barbara  depart,  without  a  sigh. 

While  they  were  gone  Mr.  Nelson  called  to  see 
how  his  patient  was ;  and  on  hearing  of  the  girls' 
proposed  tea-party  he  asked  Mrs.  Neville's  per 
mission  to  send  them  some  of  his  fine  peaches. 
He  took  delight  in  gratifying  his  young  friends, 
for  he  loved  to  see  their  eyes  sparkle,  and  their 
cheeks  flush  with  joy,  and  to  hear  their  warm 
thanks.  So  on  Monday,  when  the  peaches  came, 
Mrs.  Neville  was  not  surprised  to  see  in  addition 
a  large  pitcher  of  cream,  and  three  handsome 
bouquets  of  flowers.  On  one  was  written  "  Barbara," 
on  another  "  Helen,"  and  on  the  third  "  Nora."  They 


CONQUEST    A.NT>    SACRIFICE.  199 

were  just  alike,  excepting  that  the  top  flower  of 
Helen's  was  a  magnificent  white  lily.  It  was  the 
only  one  in  bloom,  and  Mr.  Nelson  had  hesitated 
some  time  whose  name  to  write  on  it,  but  at  length 
decided  on  Helen's.  So  it  was  determined  that 
this  bouquet  should  stand  in  the  centre  of  the  sup 
per  table,  and  Nora's  and  Barbara's  at  each  end. 
Flowers  out  of  their  own  garden,  already  decorated 
the  parlor. 

The  girls  enjoyed  themselves  vastly  arranging 
the  tea-table  before  they  went  up  to  dress,  thus 
saving  their  mother  as  much  work  as  possible. 

Fifteen  plates  Barbara  put  down ;  Nora  followed 
with  fifteen  knives,  and  Helen  with  fifteen  forks ; 
and  so  they  counted  everything. 

"You  fix  the  napkins  in  the  goblets,  Helen," 
said  Nora,  "  because  you  do  it  so  nicely." 

Helen  complied;  and  then  they  all  stood  off  to 
admire  the  table,  until  admonished  by  Mrs.  Nev 
ille  that  it  was  time  to  dress. 

Helen's  ankle  was  quite  1^1,  and  she  ran  down 
stairs  as  eagerly  as  any  to  welcome  the  youthful 
guests.  There  were  all  Mrs.  Neville's  Sunday- 
school  class,  eight  girls,  two  others  from  the  vil 
lage,  and  Mary  Rellim.  Mrs.  Neville -had  hesi- 


200  HELElSr   IVTACGHtEQOR,;    OR, 

tated  a  little  about  inviting  Mary,  but  since  Gus- 
sie's  death  Mrs.  Rellim  had  sent  Mary  to  the 
cottage  several  times,  either  to  ask  some  favor,  or 
to  pay  a  visit,  and  Mrs.  Neville  did  not  wish  to 
repulse  these  friendly  overtures.  Mary  came, 
dressed  a  great  deal  too  extravagantly  for  the  occa 
sion,  which  was  meant  to  be  a  real  play  time. 
Mrs.  Neville  always  threw  open  the  whole  house, 
excepting  the  dining  room  and  kitchen.  They 
might  hide  from  the  garret  to  the  cellar,  and  ex 
ercise  their  youthful  lungs  to  the  utmost. 

Helen,  Barbara,  and  Nora,  wore  simple  light 
chintz  dresses  fit  to  play  in.  And  as  several  of  the 
girls  were  quite  poor,  Mrs.  Neville  did  not  wish 
her  girls  to  dress  in  a  manner  that  would  make 
them  feel  uncomfortable.  Many  of  the  girls  had 
looked  with  rather  envious  eyes  on  Mary  Rellim's 
pink  barege  and  its  tiny  flounces  trimmed  with 
silk;  but,  long  before  the  afternoon  was  over,  it 
would  have  been  difficult  to  get  any  of  that  little 
company  to  excliang^presses  with  her.  For  Mary 
would  play;  and  running  through  the  bushes  in 
the  excitement  of  "tagger,"  or  hiding  in  closets, 
and  behind  doors,  was  rather  hard  on  barege ;  so 
that  poor  Mary  was  constantly  running  to  some 


CONQUEST   A.NT>    SACRIFICE.  201 

one  to  get  her  dress  pinned  up.  And  by  the  time 
they  had  gone  through  all  the  noisy  plays  Mary 
was  by  no  means  the  best  dressed  girl  in  the  room, 
as  she  had  determined  she  would  be. 

"  I  am  real  sorry  you  have  torn  your  dress  so," 
said  Helen,  as  she  stood  by  Mary  during  one  of 
the  plays. 

"Oh,  it  makes  no  difference,"  carelessly  an 
swered  Mary. 

"  It  is  a  pity  you  did  not  think  to  wear  a  dress 
that  would  not  tear  so  easily,"  said  Helen,  without 
intending  to  say  anything  unpleasant ;  but  Mary 
was  out  of  humor  with  her  misfortunes,  and  she 
answered  sneeringly, 

"  I  ought  to  have  worn  calico,  I  suppose.  You 
think  because  you  can't  afford  to  wear  anything 
else,  nobody  should." 

In  an  instant  anger  flashed  from  Helen's  eyes, 
and  she  answered  haughtily, 

"A  barege  dress  never  yet  made  a  lady  of  the 
person  who  wore  it." 

She  did  not  wait  for  Mary's  reply,  but  turned 
angrily  away.  But  if  Helen's  temper  had  been 
quick,  so  also  was  her  repentance.  The  thought 
shot  through  her  with  a  thrill  of  pain,  "  I  have 


202  HELEN   TULA-CGKREGOR}    OR, 

been  angry.  I  have  sinned.  O  my  Saviour,  for 
give  me !"  And  without  stopping  an  instant  she 
ran  out  to  the  porch,  where  Mary  had  just  gone, 
and  said,  "  Do  forgive  me,  Mary ;  I  get  angry  so 
quickly,  and  I  forget  myself  ;  it  was  very  unkind 
in  me.  Won't  you  try  and  forget  it,  and  enjoy 
yourself?" 

Mary  Hellim  was  very  much  surprised  at  this 
termination  of  a  quarrel  which  she  expected  would 
be  like  the  many  they  used  to  have;  but  although 
surprised,  she  was  unable  to  appreciate  the  frank 
avowal  and  its  generous  wish.  She  felt  angry, 
and  took  no  trouble  to  conceal  it ;  and  it  took  all 
Helen's  efforts  for  the  rest  of  the  afternoon,  which 
she  zealously  devoted  to  Mary,  to  restore  the  sullen 
beauty  to  a  good  humor ;  and  it  was  accomplished 
then  only  by  a  mere  accident  which  Helen  took 
advantage  of.  They  had  exhausted  all  their  lively 
plays  and  some  one  proposed  "cross  questions." 
This  was  hailed  with  pleasure.  They  seated  them 
selves  in  two  rows,  facing  each  other;  then  one 
went  through  the  centre  asking  questions ;  if  she 
asked  a  question  of  one  girl,  the  one  opposite  to 
her  had  to  answer  it  immediately,  or  pay  a  forfeit; 
and  the  selling  of  these  forfeits  formed  a  very 


CONQUEST   A.ND   SACRIFICE.  203 

merry  part  of  the  game.  Lucy  Dean  was  selling 
the  forfeits  over  Barbara's  head. 

"Heavy,  heavy,  what  hangs  over?"  asked 
Lucy. 

"  Fine,  or  superfine  ?" 

"Superfine;  what  must  be  done  with  the 
owner  ?" 

"She  must  bow  to  the  prettiest,  kneel  to  the 
wittiest,  and  kiss  the  one  she  loves  best,"  said 
Barbara. 

"  Here,  here,  Helen,  it  is  yours,"  said  several 
eager  voices. 

Helen  advanced,  took  her  pocket  handkerchief, 
and  then  looked  round  on  the  little  circle  with 
criticizing  eyes.  She  made  eye-glasses  of  her  fin 
gers,  declaring  that  she  must  be  very  particular; 
then  crossing  the  room  she  bowed  very  low  to  Mary 
Rellim ;  she  knelt  before  Edith  Ray,  the  oldest, 
and  therefore  supposed  to  be  the  wittiest;  and 
then,  throwing  her  arms  around  Nora,  gave  her  a 
hearty  kiss.  That  was  the  added  rose-leaf  to 
Nora's  brimming  cup  of  happiness  that  afternoon. 
She  loved  Helen  so  much,  that  although  it  was 
only  a  play,  she  felt  anxious  to  know  whom  she 
would  kiss. 


204  HEIjEOSr   MACGKREGKDR  ;    OR, 


The  bow  vanquished  the  ill  nature  of  Mary  Rel- 
lim,  and  Helen  could  enjoy  herself  for  the  rest  of 
the  time.  Her  hasty  temper,  and  her  regret  at 
giving  way  to  it,  had  cast  a  gloom  over  her  spirits, 
though  she  strove  to  hide  it  for  the  sake  of  her 
guests.  But  now  she  felt  relieved  once  more,  that 
she  had  atoned,  as  far  as  she  was  able,  for  her 
fault,  and  Mary  Rellim  had  condescended  so  far 
as  to  speak  to  her. 

Many  other  forfeits  were  sold,  for  each  girl  had 
several.  One  had  to  propose  a  new  play,  another 
to  perform  a  piece  on  the  piano,  a  third  to  tell  a 
comic  story,  and  so  on,  each  one  adding  her  mite 
to  the  general  entertainment.  At  length  it  came 
Helen's  turn  again  to  pay  a  forfeit. 

"  Indeed,"  said  Barbara,  who  was  the  seller  this 
time,  "I  can't  think  of  another  thing;  tell  me 
what  I  shall  ask  the  unfortunate  owner  to  do." 

"  Tell  her  to  go  out  of  the  room  for  five  minutes, 
and  then  come  in  and  do  something  to  amuse  the 
company,"  suggested  Edith  Ray. 

"Well  then,  I  hope  it's  yours,  Edith,"  said 
Mary  Rellim. 

But  no,  it  was  Helen's.  She  took  -it  very  re 
luctantly  and  went  out  of  the  room,  having  no 


CONQUEST    ANT>    SACRIFICE.  205 


idea  what  to  do.  But  Mrs.  Neville  always  taught 
her  children  to  use  every  exertion  in  their  power 
to  entertain  their  guests.  If  any  girl  did  not  wish 
to  do  a  thing,  one  of  them  always  offered  at  once 
to  take  her  place.  True  hospitality  reigned  at  the 
cottage.  The  desire  of  a  guest,  expressed,  when 
right,  was  law  ;  so  Helen  made  up  her  mind  that 
she  could  not  back  out,  but  must  think  of  some 
thing.  Five  minutes  elapsed,  and  she  did  not 
come.  Ten  minutes,  and  still  no  Helen.  The 
waiting  ones  begin  to  grow  impatient,  when  lo  !  the 
door  flies  open,  and  in  bounds  Helen,  dressed  as  a 
Highland  maid  !  Not  the  way  she  usually  dressed 
when  at  home,  but  in  a  suit  which  had  been  her 
grandmother's  when  she  was  a  girl,  and  which 
Helen  insisted,  in  spite  of  Margaret's  entreaties,  on 
bringing  with  her.  She  wore  a  dark  blue  jacket 
and  short  skirt.  A  scarlet  plaid  was  fastened  on 
one  shoulder,  and  knotted  on  the  other  side  at  her 
waist,  the  ends  hanging  down  to  the  bottom  of  her 
skirt.  Her  feet  and  ankles  were  bare,  and  her 
simple  head-dress  consisted  of  a  scarlet  snood,  over 
which  her  dark  hair  hung  in  heavy  ringlets. 
Helen  made  a  graceful  little  bow,  and  then  broke 
forth  into  a  gay  Scottish  song.  When  she  had 

18 


206  HELEIST    MACGTRJEGOR,;    OR, 

finished,  without  waiting  an  instant,  she  bowed 
again  and  sprang  out  of  the  door  near  which  she 
stood.  All  the  girls  called,  and  then  started  after 
her ;  but  they  called  and  pleaded  in  vain,  Helen 
could  not  be  found.  After  a  fruitless  search  they 
returned  to  the  parlor,  and  there  she  sat  quietly 
reading ! 

Great  was  the  laughing,  and  many  the  excla 
mations,  which  were  only  increased  by  Helen's 
perfectly  grave  face,  and  serious  questions  as  to 
what  was  the  matter. 

"Ah,  Helen,  I  think  you  might  have  stayed 
longer."  "  Did  you  use  to  dress  so  ?"  "  How  splen 
did  you  did  look !"  "  Where  did  you  go  ?"  Thus 
the  questions  eagerly  went  on;  but  no  entreaties 
would  induce  Helen  to  appear  again.  She  had 
dressed  and  undressed  in  the  kitchen,  with  Mrs. 
Neville's  help ;  and  the  doors  were  locked  that  led 
to  that  and  the  dining-room,  and  Mrs.  Neville 
had  advised  her  not  to  spoil  the  first  effect  by  a 
second  appearance ;  so  at  length  they  settled  down. 
Only  one  more  forfeit  remained  to  be  sold. 

"  I  do  wish  that  was  yours,  Helen,"  said  Lucy 
Dean,  "  and  then  perhaps  you  would  sing  again." 

But  it  proved  to  be  Nora's. 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  207 

"  She  must  tell  a  serious  story,"  said  Barbara. 

"  What  kind  of  a  serious  story  ?"  asked  Nora. 

"  Oh,  a  ghost  story,"  said  Lucy  Dean. 

"A  ghost  story!"  exclaimed  several  girls  at 
once,  "  there  are  no  such  things  as  ghosts." 

"  I  have  heard  of  ghosts,"  said  Helen. 

"  So  have  I,"  said  Nora,  "  and  I  will  tell  you  a 
real  ghost  story." 

"  Now,  Nora,"  said  Barbara,  "  how  can  you  ? 
You  know  there  are  no  ghosts." 

"  Very  well,  Barbara,  just  wait  and  hear ;  Aunt 
Stella  told  it  to  me ;  she  read  it  in  the  paper  and 
.of  course  it  must  be  true." 

"It  can't  be  bad  if  Aunt  Stella  told  it,"  said 
Barbara. 

"  Once  upon  a  time,"  began  Nora, — Here  all 
the  girls  laughed. 

"Well,  you  know  I  must  begin  somehow,  and 
I  don't  know  any  other  beginning.  So,  once  upon 
a  time,  there  was  a  clergyman  lived  in  the  West 
of  England,  who  used  to  take  a  few  boys  to  edu 
cate.  At  this  time  he  had  five  pupils  at  his  house. 
The  clergyman's  family  consisted  of  himself,  wife, 
son,  and  daughter,  but  the  son  was  away  at  col 
lege.  The  house  was  not  very  large,  but  part  of 


208  HELEN    MA-CG-REGOR ;    OR,, 

it  was  not  used,  because  it  was  so  old  and  dilapi 
dated.  Now  on  one  side  of  the  house,  on  the  first 
floor,  was  the  school-room  and  play-room ;  over 
the  school-room  was  the  boys'  bed-room,  and  next 
to  that  an  empty  room  which  was  in  bad  condi 
tion  and  never  used;  and  over  that  again  an 
empty  garret,  with  broken  windows  and  falling 
plaster.  The  other  side  of  the  house  was  occupied 
by  the  clergyman  and  his  family.  The  boys'  bed 
room  had  a  door  which  opened  into  the  empty 
room,  and  a  few  steps  and  a  trap  door,  led  into  the 
garret. 

"  One  day  the  whole  family  went  out  for  a  long 
walk,  and  took  their  dinners  with  them.  When 
the  boys  went  to  bed  that  night,  they  found  the 
door  leading  into  the  empty  room  open;  but  they 
did  not  think  much  of  that ;  they  shut  it,  and  then 
went  to  sleep.  Suddenly,  they  were  all  wakened 
by  a  loud  scream  in  the  empty  room.  They  could 
not  think  what  it  was ;  then  some  one  said  it  was 
only  fancy;  when  the  youngest  said,  fearfully, 
'Could  it  be  a  ghost?' 

"'Nonsense,'  said  Dean,  the  oldest  boy,  'you 
surely  do  not  believe  in  ghosts,  Edwards.' 

"So  they  all  commenced  to  tease  poor  little  Ed- 


CONQUEST1   A.NT)    S-A-CRHriOE.  209 

wards,  and  he  insisted  it  was  a  ghost,  and  dared 
any  of  them  to  go  in ;  but  they  were  all  afraid. 
At  length,  the  two  eldest,  ashamed,  got  up,  put  on 
a  few  clothes,  and  opened  the  door  of  the  empty 
room;  they  looked  in;  nothing  was  to  be  seen; 
the  moonlight  poured  in  at  the  empty  window  and 
made  everything  look  cold  and  dismal.  Then  one 
of  the  boys,  safe  in  bed,  called  out,  '  look  in  the 
garret.'  Dean  went  up  the  steps,  and  while  he 
was  lifting  up  the  trap  door  the  three  boys  in  the 
bed-room  ventured  as  far  as  the  door  to  see  what 
would  happen.  No  sooner  had  Dean  opened  the 
trap  door  than  they  all  saw  something  white  glide 
.  past,  and  heard  the  same  piercing  scream.  Dean 
uttered  a  scream  also,  and  in  his  fright  let  the  trap 
door  fall  on  his  hand ;  this  stunned  him  so  that 
he  fell  down  on  the  other  boy  Walker,  and  knocked 
him  down,  and  they  both  rolled  over  together. 
Dean  was  insensible,  and  Walker  was  too  much 
afraid  of  the  ghost  to  move.  In  the  mean  time, 
the  other  three  boys  jumped  into  bed  and  covered 
their  heads  all  up,  expecting  every  moment  some 
horrid  ghost  would  rush  in  and  carry  them  oif. 
Mr.  Staunton  was  awakened  by  the  noise,  and 
came  in  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  'Oh,  sir, 

18  *  o 


210  HELEN   MACGREGOIt ;    OR, 

the  ghost !  the  ghost !'  was  all  the  boys  could  say. 
He  went  into  the  other  room  and  brought  out 
Dean  and  Walker,  and  stayed  with  the  boys  the 
rest  of  that  night  and  the  next  night,  but  nothing 
more  was  heard." 

"  Well,  what  was  it  ?"  asked  Lucy. 

"  Why  a  ghost,  of  course,"  answered  Julia  May- 
berry,  who  had  a  very  superstitious  mother. 

"  Well,"  continued  Nora,  "  everything  remained 
quiet;  and  at  last  the  boys  gained  courage  to 
sleep  by  themselves,  and  Mr.  Staunton  left  them. 
But  about  a  month  after  the  first  alarm,  they 
heard  noises  as  if  some  one  was  scratching  in  the 
garret;  several  nights  after  they  heard  shrieks, 
quite  distinctly.  They  called  for  Mr.  Staunton 
each  time,  and  he  went  up  into  the  garret,  but 
although  he  thought  he  heard  a  rustling,  he  could 
see  nothing.  On  the  next  day,  Edward  Staunton, 
the  son,  came  home  from  college,  and  was  very 
much  surprised  to  hear  of  the  ghost.  He  told  the 
boys  to  call  him  as  soon  as  they  heard  any  noise. 
They  did;  he  went  quietly  up  the  ladder,  and 
opened  the*trap  door;  they  heard  a  great  flutter 
ing,  sounds  of  shrieks  redoubled,  a  sound  of  break 
ing  glass,  and  a  violent  struggle,  and  then  Edward 


CONQUEST    A1STD    SACRIFICE.  211 

called  out  that  he  had  found  the  ghost ;  he  came 
down  the  ladder,  bringing  with  him,  what  do  you 
think?" 

"  What  ?  what  ?"  asked  all  the  girls  eagerly. 

"  A  fine  large  owl !" 

The  burst  of  laughter  that  followed  this  was  only 
interrupted  by  the  tea-bell ;  and  both  Helen  and 
Julia  were  glad  to  escape  the  teasing  they  got 
about  the  ghost. 

Never  did  a  tea-table  look  more  inviting,  with 
its  flowers  and  fruit,  and  seldom  was  one  better 
appreciated.  After  supper  the  evening  was  spent 
in  singing  and  music.  They  sang  hymns  towards 
the  last,  and  Mrs.  Neville  read  a  chapter  in  the 
Bible  and  prayed.  Thus  separated  this  happy 
party.  No  ill  humor  marred  their  good-byes,  and 
they  were  sorry  the  afternoon  was  so  soon  over. 


XV. 

SELF-SACRIFICE. 

"  My  child,  the  counsels  high  attend 
Of  thy  Eternal  Friend. 
When  longings  pure,  when  holy  prayers, 
"When  self-denying  thoughts  and  cares 

Room  in  thy  heart  would  win, 
Stay  not  too  long  to  count  them  o'er; 
Rise  in  his  name;  throw  wide  the  door; 

Let  the  good  angels  in." 

world  is  full  of  beauty;  and  life  is  very 
JL  sweet,  even  to  the  care-worn.  Helen's  lot  had 
been  cast  in  the  midst  of  pleasant  scenes.  Her 
young  feet  had  been  free  to  wander  amongst  the 
trees  and  flowers,  to  climb  the  mountain  path  and 
search  the  shaded  dell,  and  to  rove,  like  a  child 
of  nature  as  she  was,  where  Nature  was  most  beau 
tiful  to  her  every  sense.  And  now,  removed  from 
the  scenes  of  her  wild,  untutored  childhood,  in  the 
orderings  of  a  kind  Providence  she  was  receiving 
almost  a  mother's  love  and  care  from  Mrs.  Nev 
ille;  and  enjoying  a  true  and  refining  friendship 
212 


CONQUEST   AND    SACRIFICE.  213 

in  Nora  and  Barbara.  But  more  than  all  this, 
Helen  had  found  the  Saviour.  Each  day  she  was 
living  closer  and  closer  to  him.  Religion  was 
more  to  her  than  a  mere  name ;  it  was  becoming 
the  daily  guide  of  her  life,  an  unfailing  source  of 
blessing  whether  in  joy  or  trouble.  "  The  lines" 
had  indeed  "  fallen  to  her  in  pleasant  places,"  and 
she  had  "  a  goodly  heritage."  But  each  life-cup 
holds  its  share  of  sorrow.  Helen  could  not  forget 
that  she  did  not  hear  from  her  father. 

The  summer  had  passed  away,  and  October, 
with  its  brilliant  beauty  and  evanescent  glory, 
crowned  the  earth.  Helen  had  at  first  watched 
eagerly  for  a  letter,  but  hope  had  at  length  died 
out.  Her  spirit  was  too  independent  to  allow  her 
to  remain  long  a  burden  to  others,  after  she  began 
to  realize  the  true  position  of  things.  She  there 
fore  made  up  her  mind  to  become  a  teacher ;  and 
with  redoubled  energy  entered  upon  her  studies  in 
the  beginning  of  September.  Naturally  of  a  sunny 
temper,  and  not  given  to  much  sadness  of  spirit, 
Helen  yet  bore  a  real  grief  about  with  her,  on  ac 
count  of  her  father.  Although  she  had  never 
loved  him  with  the  deepest  aifection,  and  although 
their  parting  had  been  without  a  pang  on  her  part, 


214  HELE1ST    lYTACaOREGOR,;    OR, 


she  could  not  help  feeling  sometimes,  with  a  sad 
dened  heart,  that  she  might  never  see  him  again. 
Then  too,  she  had  her  hours  of  soul  despondency, 
(as  what  Christian  has  not  ?)  when  she  thought  of 
what  she  should  be,  of  what  her  Saviour  expected 
her  to  be,  and  of  what  she  was  not. 

At  such  times  how  the  trustful  soul  throws 
itself  on  the  compassion  of  an  infinite  love,  and 
finds  consolation  in  the  thought  of  the  gentleness 
of  that  Saviour  who  will  not  "  break  the  bruised 
reed,  nor  quench  the  smoking  flax  !" 

One  morning  Helen  felt  particularly  sad.  It 
was  the  day  before  they  had  attended  the  funeral 
of  Lucy  Dean's  father  ;  and  she  had  watched,  with 
a  keen  pang,  the  passionate  sorrow  of  the  bereaved 
orphans  over  him  who  had  been  so  tender  and  so 
kind.  She  heard  friends  speaking  of  his  devo 
tion  to  his  motherless  children,  and  a  yearning 
wish  filled  her  heart  that  she  also  might  taste  a 
father's  love,  while  the  bitter  thought  would  come 
with  it  that  her  father  did  not  care  enough  for  her 
even  to  send  after  her,  but  had  willingly  abandoned 
her  to  the  care  of  strangers.  When  Helen  arose 
the  morning  after  the  funeral,  something  of  this 
sadness  still  lingered,  but  'it  was  mingled  with  a 


CONQUEST    A.ND    SACRIFICE.  215 

thought  more  absorbing.  What  was  to  become 
of  Lucy  Dean  and  her  five  little  brothers  and 
sisters?  They  had  talked  over  it  the  evening  be 
fore,  and  Mrs.  Neville  had  said  it  would  be  im 
possible  for  her  to  do  much ;  and  Helen  noticed 
that  she  said  it  with  deep  regret.  Instantly  the 
thought  occurred, — "  She  could  do  more  for  those 
friendless  ones  if  it  were  not  for  me.  I  am  the 
additional  burden  that  hinders  her.  Then,  too, 
Lucy  is  in  her  Sunday-school  class,  and  therefore 
has  a  greater  claim  on  her  help."  This  thought 
worried  Helen,  an*d  she  could  not  recover  her 
spirits.  Nora  and  Barbara  playfully  rallied  her 
on  her  melancholy  face. 

They  were  taking  in  their  flowers  for  the  win 
ter, — always  a  delightful  task  for  Nora  and  Bar 
bara.  Helen  participated  in  it  for  the  first  time, 
and  Nora  had  predicted  that  she  would  greatly 
enjoy  it.  And  Helen  did  enjoy  it,  but  the  trace 
of  sadness  still  lingered  with  it  all. 

"  Three  of  these  windows  have  the  sun  all  win 
ter,"  said  Barbara;  "which  will  you  have, 
Helen?" 

"  Either  one,"  answered  Helen,  placing  a  magni 
ficent  rose-bush  on  the  wide  window  ledge ;  "  flow- 


216  HELEN    3VE MCGREGOR ;    OR,, 

ers  are  very  lovely,  but  so  frail  ;  they  cannot  Bear 
the  least  cold  breath." 

"Well,"  said  Nora,  "for  my  part  I  am  glad 
they  cannot.  Just  to  think,  if  flowers  lived  out 
all  winter,  we  could  not-  have  them  in  the  house 
to  make  it  beautiful  when  all  is  desolate  out  of 
doors;  and  we  would  not  have  the  pleasure  of 
taking  them  up." 

"  Nor  the  pleasure  of  getting  quite  muddy  from 
head  to  foot,"  said  Mrs.  Neville,  smiling. 

Nora  laughed  heartily  as  she  glanced  from  her 
mud-stained  dress  to  her  miM-covered  fingers; 
but  Mrs.  Neville  noticed  that  Helen  did  not,  as 
usual,  join  in  the  laugh,  but  that  she  stood  bend 
ing  over  a  heliotrope  with  a  sort  of  absent  air. 
Nora  and  Barbara  had  already  returned  to  the 
garden,  and  Mrs.  Neville  going  up  to  Helen,  said 
gently, 

"You  seem  to.be  sad  to-day,  dear  Helen ;  what 
is  the  matter?" 

Helen,  who  had  been  striving  to  conquer  her 
feelings  all  the  morning,  had  now  arrived  at  that 
point  when  a  few  land  words  completely  overcame 
her,  and  bursting  into  tears  she  said, 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Neville,  I  know  you  could  do  some- 


CONQUEST    ANT)    SACRIFICE.  217 

thing  for  Lucy  Dean  if  it  were  not  for  me.  How 
I  wish  I  did  not  have  to  be  a  burden  to  you." 

"Helen!  Helen!"  said  her  kind  benefactor, 
half  reproachfully,  and  yet  tenderly,  "how  can 
you  talk  so  ?"  and  drawing  the  young  girl  to  her 
she  kissed  her  fondly.  "Are  you  not  my  daughter, 
adopted  as  my  own,  and  loved  far  better  than 
Lucy  could  be  ?  Do  you  not  repay  me  ten-fold 
daily  for  the  little  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Helen,  warmly  returning  the 
caresses,  "but  I  know  you  long  to  help  Lucy, 
and"— 

"  And  I  intend  to  help  her." 

"  But  you  are  not  able  to  do  all  that  you  wish, 
for  her." 

"Can  we  ever  do  all  we  wish?  Our  duty, 
Helen  dear,  is  to  do  all  that  we  can ;  and  surely 
both  you  and  I  have  faith  enough  to  leave  the 
rest  to  God, — to  that  God  who*has  proclaimed 
himself  the  Father  of  the  fatherless." 

"  Ah,  if  I  had  but  your  faith,  dear  Mrs.  Nev 
ille!  I  so  often  doubt.  Sometimes  I  feel  as 
though  I  could  trust  God  for  everything;  and 
then  again  all  looks  dark  and  I  think  I  must  rely 
on  human  help." 

19 


218  HELEN    MACGKREGHDR;    OR, 

"Alas,  Helen,  that  is  human  weakness,  the 
world  over.  Now  'we  see  through  a  glass,  darkly,' 
but  there  comes  a  time  when  '  we  shall  see  face  to 
face/  when  the  faith  of  earth,  poor,  weak,  and 
frail  as  it  is,  shall  be  lost  in  the  all-glorious  reality 
of  heaven.  Until  then,  we  must  pay  the  penalty 
of  humanity,  and  strengthen  our  feeble  faith  by 
unceasing  draughts  from  the  fount  of  life.  '  We 
must  draw  up  living  water,  with  the  golden  chain 
of  prayer.'  Ay,  and  this  very  weakness  throws  us 
more  entirely  upon  our  Saviour.  You  will  find, 
dear  Helen,  that  life  is  a  continued  warfare  be 
tween  good  and  evil,  between  duty  and  inclination. 
I  know  it  is  hard  sometimes  to  bear  our  little  trou 
bles  and  vexations,  but  happy  are  they  who  through 
Christ's  strength  come  out  triumphant,  and  'having 
respect  unto  the  recompense  of  the  reward,' 
'  count  all  things  but  loss  for  the  excellency  of  the 
knowledge  of  Christ.'  You  remember  the  words 
of  our  favorite  poet? — 

" '  Oh,  thou  so  weary  of  thy  self-denials, 

And  so  impatient  of  thy  little  cross, 
Is  it  so  hard  to  bear  thy  daily  trials, 

To  count  thy  earthly  things  a  gainful  loss  ? 
What  if  thou  always  suffer  tribulation, 

And  if  thy  Christian  warfare  never  cease? 


CONQTJKST    A-ISTD    SACRIFICE.  219 

The  gaining  of  the  quiet  habitation, 

Shall  gather  thee  to  everlasting  peace.' " 

Helen  felt  greatly  encouraged  by  Mrs.  Neville's 
words.  There  was  comfort  in  knowing  that  others 
also,  at  times,  felt  their  faith  grow  weak ;  yet  she 
could  not  give  up  the  idea  of  assisting  Mrs.  Nev 
ille  in  some  way  to  aid  the  orphan  family.  When 
therefore  the  flowers  were  all  brought  in,  and  Mrs. 
Neville  expressed  her  intention  of  going  to  see 
Lucy,  and  asked  Helen  if  she  would  like  to  go 
with  her,  she  gladly  accepted  the  invitation.  Be 
fore  starting,  however,  she  knelt  down  and  prayed, 
that  if  consistent  with  his  will,  God  would  show 
her  some  way  of  helping  these  poor  children,  and 
also  of  manifesting  her  gratitude  to  Mrs.  Neville 
for  all  her  tender  care.  Helen's  communion  with 
her  Saviour  was  not  in  vain.  She  rose  from  her 
knees  feeling  assured  that  at  the  right  time  he 
would  open  tocher  the  door  of  opportunity  and 
give  her  grace  to  enter  it.  Nora  and  Barbara 
would  have  liked  very  much  to  go  too,  but  their 
mother  had  simply  asked  Helen,  and  they  had 
been  trained  from  childhood  to  acquiesce  in  her 
decisions  without  inquiring  the  why  and  the 
wherefore.  Nora  ran  after  Helen  to  the  gate  to 


220  HELEN   UVEACGKREGOR,;    OR, 

thrust  a  balsam  apple  into  her  hand,  charging  her 
to  be  sure  and  tell  Lucy  to  put  some  liquor  on  it 
and  keep  it,  as  it  was  so  excellent  if  any  of  the 
children  should  fall  down  and  hurt  themselves. 
Helen  took  it  and  promised,  but  she  could  not 
help  wondering  in  her  mind  where  Lucy  would 
get  the  liquor. 

They  found  Lucy,  with  all  the  family  gathered 
round  her,  busily  darning  stockings.  She  was 
very  glad  that  they  had  come,  but  received  them 
with  such  a  hopeless,  dejected  manner,  that  it  went 
to  Mrs.  Neville's  heart.  The  sun  shone  cheerfully 
into  the  room,  and  the  youngest  children  were 
having  a  romp  on  the  floor;  but  nothing  seemed 
to  dispel  the  despondent  cloud  from  the  brow  of 
the  slender  girl,  who  busily  working  with  a  wo 
man's  patience,  had  even  in  these  sad  moments,  to 
lay  aside  her  sorrow,  and  to  attend  to  the  pressing 
necessities  of  poverty.  She  brightened  up  a  little, 
however,  when  Mrs.  Neville  asked  after  each  of 
the  children,  and  when  Helen  insisted  that  there 
never  was  a  sweeter  little  fellow  than  the  baby, 
which  she  took  on  her  lap  at  once.  Lucy  also 
thought  that  there  were  few  better  children,  and 
she  began  telling  Mrs.  Neville  of  some  of  their 


CONQUEST   A.ND    SA.CE,IiniOE.  221 


endearing  qualities.  There  were  Laura  and  Susie 
who  were  a  great  help  to  her.  Laura  could  sweep 
and  dust  and  make  the  beds,  and  Susie  always 
washed  the  dishes,  while  Aleck  and  Tom  brought 
the  water  and  kindling  wood.  "As  for  baby, 
darling,"  continued  Lucy,  "  he  can  only  be  funny 
yet,  and  not  very  useful,  but  we  all  love  him  so." 

"Baby  darling,"  who  was  two  years  old,  im 
mediately  showed  his  appreciation  of  these  re 
marks  by  sticking  out  his  little  bare  toes  towards 
the  fire  and  shouting  loudly,  "papa,  papa."  Tears 
dimmed  Lucy's  eyes  at  the  dear  name,  and  little 
Tom,  stealing  softly  behind  her,  put  his  arms 
round  her  and  said  soothingly, 

"  Don't  cry,  Lucy,  I'll  soon  be  a  man,  and  then 
I'll  be  papa  for  you." 

Lucy  drew  him  fondly  to  her  side  and  brushed 
back  the  hair  from  his  pretty  forehead. 

"Oh,"  said  she,  "if  I  only  could  keep  them 
together  a  while,  until  they  get  a  little  older." 

"  Have  you  thought  of  any  way  that  it  might 
be  done  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Neville  kindly. 

"  No,  ma'am  ;  dear  father  left  only  a  few  dollars. 
You  know  winter  before  last,  when  mother  died, 
he  was  sick  nearly  all  the  time,  and  the  money 

19  * 


222  HELEN   MIA.CGHR.EGOR, ;    OR, 

he  had  laid  up  all  went.  Since  then  he  could  not 
save  much,  for  I  am  not  the  good  housekeeper 
that  mother  was." 

"  Still,"  said  Mrs.  Neville,  "  I  think  something 
can  be  done ;  we  must  hope  and  pray  for  the  best. 
I  feel  that  you  know  to  whom  to  go  for  strength 
and  help." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Lucy,  "  were  it  not  for  the 
dear  Saviour's  help  and  guidance,  I  know  I  could 
not  succeed  in  anything.  Dear  papa  said  just  be 
fore  he  died,  'Lucy,  my  daughter,  Jesus  will  never 
forsake  you.  Pray  to  him.'  And  this  morning  it 
seemed  to  me  as  I  was  thinking  of  those  words,  a 
sudden  hope  filled  my  heart." 

Helen's  tears  had  flowed  in  sympathy  with 
Lucy's,  and  she  said  earnestly,  "  Don't  you  think, 
Lucy,  you  could  do  enough  plain  sewing  to  buy 
bread  for  these  little  ones  ?  You  would  not  need 
much  more,  for  you  have  potatoes  and  apples  put 
away  for  all  winter." 

"I  was  thinking  of  that;  and  I  might  make 
out,  for  the  children  could  do  the  house  work,  if  it 
were  not  for  the  rent.  I  could  not  earn  enough 
to  pay  that  too,  and  I  have  only  twenty-five  dol 
lars." 


CONQUEST   A-OSTD    SACRIFICE.  223 

"  And  winter  is  coming,  and  little  feet  require 
shoes,"  said  Mrs.  Neville ;  "  but  don't  be  discour 
aged,  Lucy ;  we  will  see  what  can  be  done.  All 
these  little  ones  are  the  children  of 'the  righteous,' 
whom,  the  Psalmist  declares,  he  has  'not  seen 
forsaken,  nor  his  seed  begging  bread.'" 

"Who  is  the  landlord,  Lucy?"  Helen  asked 
abruptly. 

"  Mr.  Nelson,  and  he  is  very  strict." 

"  Mr.  Nelson  !"  said  Helen,  almost  clapping  her 
hands  for  joy.  "  Oh,  then  you  can  stay,  Lucy ; 
he  will  not  ask  you  any  rent." 

"Helen,"  said  Mrs.  Neville,  "do  not  cheer 
Lucy  with  that  thought.  Mr.  Nelson  is,  as  Lucy 
says,  a  strict  landlord,  and  will  require  all  the 
rent." 

Lucy  sighed,  but  Helen  only  smiled.  It  seemed 
impossible  to  her  generous  nature,  that  a  man  as 
rich  as  Mr.  Nelson  should  be  anxious  for  the  rent 
of  one  poor  cottage.  Older  persons,  more  worldly 
wise  than  Helen,  could  have  told  her  that  the 
poor,  as  a  general  rule,  give  more  liberally  in  pro 
portion  to  their  ability,  than  the  rich.  But  it  is 
hard  to  chill  the  ardent  faith  of  youth.  Mrs. 
Neville's  arguments  on  the  way  home  did  not 


224  HELEN   MACGKREQOR;    OR, 

dampen  Helen's  zeal.  She  was  too  proud  by 
nature  to  ask  a  favor  for  herself;  but  for  the 
orphan  little  ones  she  had  just  left,  she  determined 
to  conquer  her  feelings,  ana  go  early  Monday 
morning  to  Mr.  Nelson  herself. 

Nora  and  Barbara  shared  Helen's 'enthusiasm; 
and  they  had  planned  out  together  quite  a  life  of 
ease,  for  Lucy.  They  agreed  to  mend  and  make 
all  the  children's  clothes  at  their  weekly  Dorcas, 
when  they  were  unpleasantly  reminded  by  Mrs. 
Neville  that  Lucy  could  not  earn  enough  to  buy 
the  children  new  clothes,  that  there  were  not  many 
in  Brookfield  who  gave  out  plain  sewing,  and 
Mrs.  Neville  knew  that  it  would  take  much  ex 
ertion  on  her  part  to  induce  those  few  to  patronize 
a  girl  as  young  as  Lucy.  She  explained  all  this 
to  the  girls,  and  thus  suddenly  demolished  their 
beautiful  air-castles.  This  did  not,  however,  com 
pletely  discourage  them.  They  soon  rallied  again, 
and  set  themselves  busily  to  thinking. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Nora,  with  a  little  sigh  of 
disappointment,  "  we  will  manage  it  somehow." 

"  I  am  sure  we  will,"  said  Helen. 

Busy  as  thought  was,  however,  no  conclusion 
could  be  arrived  at  to  raise  money  sufficient  to  buy 


CONQUEST    A.^TD    S^CRIiriCE.  225 


shoes  and  comfortable  clothes  for  the  children  the 
next  winter. 

"  If  it  were  only  summer  time,"  said  Barbara, 
"we  might  raise  vegetables  in  our  gardens  and 
sell  them." 

But  as  it  was  not  summer  time,  that  would  not 
do.  At  length,  after  the  supper  dishes  were 
wrashed,  and  Nora  had  said  that  she  was  almost 
ready  to  give  up,  and  Barbara  had  declared  that 
her  head  ached  thinking,  Helen  said  slowly, 

"  I  know  how  we  can  do  it." 

"  How  ?  how  ?"  eagerly  inquired  both  girls. 

But  the  plan  Helen  had  thought  of  required  an 
amount  of  self-sacrifice  that  prevented  her  telling 
it  with  all  the  joy  that  the  others  expected.  For 
the  last  two  hours  she  had  tried  to  banish  the 
thought  as  impracticable,  and  had  only  just  now, 
after  a  silent  prayer  for  strength,  made  up  her 
mind  to  propose  her  plan.  Mrs.  Neville  had 
promised  to  buy  them  each  a  silk  dress  the  coming 
winter.  Helen  knew  that  these  dresses  were  to 
cost  twelve  dollars  a  piece  ;  and  she  knew  that  the 
merino  ones  which  they  were  to  have  had  would 
cost  but  six.  Now  the  thought  would  intrude 
itself  that  if  each  of  the  girls  could  only  make  up 


226  HELEN    MACGKREQOR;    OR, 

her  mind  to  be  satisfied  with  the  merinoes,  there 
would  be  a  sum  of  eighteen  dollars  saved,  which 
would  be  enough  to  clothe  the  children  comfort 
ably.  But  then,  Helen  had  never  in  her  life  had 
a  silk  dress,  and  she  had  looked  on  Mary  Rellim's 
many  a  time  with  longing  eyes.  No  one  can  ap 
preciate  what  the  sacrifice  was  to  Helen,  unless 
like  her,  she  is  extravagantly  fond  of  handsome 
clothes.  We  all  know  how  Helen,  from  the  inju 
dicious  training  of  her  childhood,  had  learned  to 
look  on  wealth  and  rank  as  everything.  Through 
the  sweet  teachings  of  gospel  truth  she  had  ceased 
to  care  for  the  wealth  of  this  world,  and  had  placed 
her  treasure  in  heaven ;  but  many  of  Helen's  faults 
still  clung  to  her;  she  sometimes  found  herself 
lingering  before  the  looking-glass  and  recalling 
Dugald's  praises ;  and  the  idea  of  a  silk  dress  had 
filled  her  with  delight.  But  Helen  was  now  to 
learn  that  "It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to 
receive."  Every  regret  vanished  as  she  met  Mrs. 
Neville's  approving  smile,  and  heard  Nora's  joyous 
exclamation, 

"  Why,  Helen,  you  are  the  queen  of  thinkers. 
I  never  thought  of  the  silk  dresses ;  how  stupid 
of  met" 


CONQUEST   AISTD    SACRIFICE.  227 

And  that  was  true  of  Nora.  Dress  was  always 
a  secondary  consideration  with  her ;  and  she  had 
many  a  time  gone  to  church  in  a  calico  without 
caring  in  the  least.  Barbara's  answer  did  not 
come  quite  as  readily  as  Nora's.  Like  Helen, 
the  first  silk  dress  in  anticipation  had  many  at 
tractions  for  her.  But  she  would  not  hold  back 
alone,  and  so  it  was  decided  upon.  Mrs.  Neville, 
however,  suggested  that  Lucy  would  feel  much 
more  comfortable  if  she  worked  for  the  money, 
than  if  she  received  it  as  a  gift ;  and  as  she  had 
some  sheets  to  make  up  she  proposed  giving  them 
to  her  to  do  at  her  leisure,  paying  her  liberally  in 
shoes  and  clothes.  This  delighted  the  girls,  and 
in  their  minds  Lucy  was  already  fixed  comfortably 
for  the  winter.  Not  a  doubt  troubled  them,  as  to 
Mr.  Nelson's  answer. 

Oh  the  generous  faith  of  youth !  Would  that 
we  all  could  carry  more  of  its  beauty  and  fresh 
ness  to  the  noontide  of  life,  and  to  the  evening  of 
age !  A  perennial  fount  of  blessing  springing  up 
in  the  desert  wastes  of  the  world,  never  dried  by 
the  heat  of  passion  nor  drained  by  the  draughts  of 
selfishness  and  avarice ! 


XVI. 

THE    REQUEST. 

"  He  is  not  worthy  to  hold  from  heaven 
The  trust  reposed,  the  talents  given, 
Who  will  not  add  to  the  portion  that's  scant, 
In^  the  pinching  hours  of  cold  and  want." 

rflHERE  are  some  dispositions  naturally  patient ; 
J-  they  can  wait,  and  wait  calmly,  days,  months, 
and  even  years,  for  the  attainment  of  a  darling 
wish.  Others,  naturally  impatient,  have,  through 
the  all-powerful  influence  of  religion,  learned  to 
curb  desire,  and  to  imitate  their  divine  Master. 
Helen  MacGregor  was  like  the  mountain  stream 
of  her  native  land,  swift  and  impetuous  and  im 
patient  of  restraint.  Years  had  not  yet  given  to 
her  character  that  Christian  completeness  which  the 
Saviour's  true  disciples  must  eventually  atedn. 
Glad  and  joyous  youth  was  hers,  and  youth  is  ever 
impatient  to  overleap  all  obstacles  and  reach  the 
goal  at  once.  Thus  Helen  entered  the  study  on 
Monday  morning  for  the  first  time  in  weeks,  with 

228 


CONQUEST   ^VNTD    SACRIFICE.  229 

a  cloud  on  her  brow.  Mrs.  Neville  had  refused 
to  let  her  go  to  Mr.  Nelson's  until  after  the  study 
hour  in  the  afternoon.  This  was  not  much  of  a 
trial,  to  be  sure,  but  to  Helen's  disposition  it  was 
a  great  disappointment.  She  had  fully  made  up 
her  mind  to  start  the  first  thing  in  the  morning ; 
and  Helen  had  been  her  own  mistress  too  long  not 
to  feel  keenly  the  least  restraint.  She  entered  the 
study  looking  angry,  and  feeling  rebellious.  But 
Helen  knew  well  that  it  is  the  small,  insignificant 
acts  and  feelings,  of  every  day,  that  go  to  swell  the 
long  list  of  Christian  virtues,  or  Christian  failings. 
Every  evil  thought  conquered  wins  a  smile  from 
heaven.  And  day  by  day  to  come  out  victors 
through  Christ,  over  the  petty  vexations  of  life, 
shall  at  last  place  our  feet  on  the  golden  pave 
ment,  and  wreathe  our  brows  with  the  crown  im 
mortal.  Helen  sat  down  at  her  desk  with  a  bitter 
feeling,  but  it  did  not  last  long.  She  saw  lying  on 
her  book  two  of  Nora's  choicest  flowers.  Sympa 
thy  is  like  the  genial  sunshine;  it  wakens  into 
beauty  all  our  better  feelings.  Tears  fell  on 
Helen's  open  geography,  as  she  thought,  "How 
wicked,  oh,  how  wicked  I  am,  to  get  angry  over 

such   a  trifle.      Dear    Saviour,   make    me  more 
20 


230  HEXjElST   MA-CGKREGOR,;    OR,, 

worthy  of  being  thy  child ;"  and  leaning  her  head 
on  the  desk  she  prayed  to  be  forgiven,  and  for 
strength  to  overcome.  The  cloud  was  gone ;  dis 
pelled,  as  all  the  Christian's  clouds  must  ever  be, 
by  communion  with  her  Saviour. 

"  Dear  Nora,"  thought  Helen,  "  how  sweet  she 
is ;  she  wanted  to  cheer  me,  and  so  she  picked  her 
choicest  flowers  for  me."  Helen  looked  up,  and 
catching  Nora's  eye  she  kissed  the  flowers,  and 
smiled  her  thanks.  Nora  returned  the  smile, 
happy  to  think  that  Helen  was  once  more  herself. 
And  well  was  it  for  Helen  that  she  overcame  that 
first  disappointment  in  the  right  way,  and  sought 
for  grace  and  strength ;  for  that  day  was  to  con 
tain  many  disappointments.  Lessons  and  dinner 
were  at  length  over,  and  the  quiet  of  the  study 
hour  reigned  in  the  little  school-room.  Helen 
glanced  impatiently  at  the  clock.  Only  half  an 
hour  more.  Mrs.  Neville  had  excused  her  from 
sewing.  Only  half  an  hour.  Helen's  mind  wan 
dered  from  the  lesson ;  she  looked  out  at  the  crim 
son  leaves  flying  before  the  wind,  when  suddenly 
Mr.  Nelson  opened  the  gate.  Helen  could  scarcely 
believe  it.  Yes,  it  was  he.  She  forgot  the  "  quiet 
rule,"  and  exclaimed, 


CONQUEST   A.JX~n   SACRIFICE.  231 

"  Oh,  there  is  Mr.  Nelson  now !" 

Barbara  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  then 
resumed  her  grammar.  Nora  did  not  raise  her 
head  from  her  slate.  Helen  continued, 

"I  wonder  if  I  could  go  out  and  ask  him 
now?" 

This  was  too  much  for  Nora;  in  anxiety  to 
save  Helen  from  disobeying,  she  exclaimed  has 
tily, 

"  Oh,  don't,  Helen ;  mother  will  call  you  if  she 
thinks  best." 

"  I  wonder," — began  Helen,  but  Nora  put  her 
finger  on  her  lip,  and  bent  once  more  over  her 
slate. 

Helen  smiled  and  nodded  and  sat  down  to  her 
lesson ;  but  she  could  not  study ;  she  was  expect 
ing  every  minute  to  be  called,  and  thinking  what 
she  should  say.  But  she  had  her  trouble  for 
nothing;  Mrs.  Neville  did  not  call  her,  and 
Helen,  with  a  sigh  of  disappointment,  saw  Mr. 
Nelson  go  away.  She  watched  him  till  he  was 
out  of  sight,  and  forgot  to  look  at  her  book  until 
she  was  suddenly  roused  by  Mrs.  Neville's  en 
trance,  and  Barbara's  exclamation  as  she  ran  out 
of  the  room,  "  Study  hour  is  over." 


232  HKLEIST    M^CGJ-REGHDR;    OR, 

"  Oh,  why  didn't  you  call  me  ?"  asked  Helen. 

"  Trust  me,  Helen,"  said  Mrs.  Neville ;  "  I 
know  Mr.  Nelson  best,  and  you  will  be  more 
likely  to  obtain  your  wish  at  Oakdale.  Run  now, 
and  get  ready,  and  be  back  before  dark.  Why 
do  you  not  go  out,  Nora  ?" 

"  I  spoke  during  study  hour,"  answered  Nora, 
with  a  deep  blush. 

Helen  had  got  as  far  as  the  door,  when  these 
words  arrested  her.  Should  she  too,  go  back? 
She  stood  a  moment  irresolute, — only  a  moment, 
and  then  she  walked  back  and  sat  down  by  Nora. 
Mrs.  Neville  looked  surprised,  but  said  nothing. 

All  disappointment,  however,  must  have  an 
end,  and  at  length  Helen  was  fairly  on  the  road 
to  Mr.  Nelson's.  The  air  was  keen  and  bracing ; 
the  gardens  were  bright  with  marigolds,  dahlias, 
and  scarlet  sage ;  the  changing  leaves  dropped  at 
her  feet,  and  as  Helen  MacGregor  tripped  lightly 
along,  she  thought  there  never  was  a  happier  girl 
than  she. 

Helen  was  going  on  in  this  happy  way,  when 
she  saw  Mary  Rellim  coming  towards  her.  She 
looked  at  her  admiringly,  for  Helen  had  not  lost 
her  old  taste  for  dress,  although  now  it  was  only  a 


CONQUEST   AJSTD    SACRIFICE.  233 

secondary  consideration  with  her.  Since  Barbara's 
birth-day,  Mary  and  Helen  had  been  very  good 
friends,  until  the  last  few  weeks.  Helen  had 
noticed  that  Mary  now  never  spoke  to  her  when 
she  came  to  the  cottage,  unless  to  answer  some 
question,  which  she  did  in  the  shortest  possible 
manner.  It  worried  Helen  somewhat,  and  she 
strove  to  speak  kindly  and  if  possible  to  overcome 
Mary's  dislike.  She  therefore  greeted  her  very 
cordially,  but  received  only  a  cold  return.  Mary 
knew  at  once  that  Helen  must  be  going  to  Mr. 
Nelson's,  as  she  was  so  near  there,  and  that  gave 
an  additional  haughtiness  to  her  brow ;  for  it  was 
the  great  point  of  Helen's  offending  that  she  had 
found  favor  at  Oakdale.  Mary  had  lived  all  her 
life  in  Brookfield,  and  had  never  been  inside,  even, 
of  the  grounds ;  and  yet,  here  was  Helen,  almost  a 
stranger,  so  intimate  there.  Mary  had  only  heard 
a  few  weeks  before  of  Helen's  sprained  ankle ;  and 
she  now  glanced  at  her  own  handsome  dress  and 
then  at  Helen's  common  delaine,  and  curled  her 
lip  to  think  what  poor  taste  the  master  of  Oakdale 
had.  Poor  Mary !  Poor  even  in  her  riches. 
She  was  growing  up  with  no  thought  beyond 

dress.      Her    mind   was   occupied    entirely   with 
20  * 


234  HELEN   3VTA.CQ-REGJOR;    OR, 

dreams  of  coming  parties  and  gaieties,  the  last  new 
style  of  bonnets,  and  the  gossip  of  the  village. 
What  vain  pursuits  to  occupy  an  immortal  soul ! 
No  working  for  the  Master;  no  self-denial  for 
that  holy  cause  which  brought  a  God  from 
heaven. 

"  Are  all  well  at  home  ?"  asked  Helen  kindly. 

"Yes,  very  well,  thank  you.  I  suppose  you 
are  going  to  Oakdale  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  must  hurry  too ;  it  gets  dark  so 
soon  now." 

"  Oh,  you  need  not  hurry  there  now,  for  Mr. 
Nelson  is  out." 

"Out?"  exclaimed  Helen,  in  a  disappointed 
tone,  "  I  am  so  sorry.  But  then  perhaps  he  will 
not  be  gone  long,  and  I  may  see  him  yet." 

"  You  need  not  go,"  said  Mary  coldly,  "  he  will 
not  be  back  while  you  wait." 

"How  do  you  know?"  asked  Helen  incredu 
lously.  "I  believe  he  will  come,  for  he  never 
stays  out  late ;  so  I'll  try." 

Helen  was  starting  off,  but  Mary  caught  her 
arm. 

"  If  you  will  persist  in  going,  then  I  must  tell 
you  that  he  went  out  because  you  were  coming !" 


CONQUEST   A1STD    SACRIFICE.  235 

"  Went  out  because  I  was  coming !"  exclaimed 
Helen  amazed,  "  who  told  him  I  was  coming  ?" — 
then  she  added  instantly,  "  I  suppose  Mrs.  Neville 
must  have  told  him  this  morning." 

"Yes,  to  be  sure,"  said  Mary,  "so,  come  go 
back  with  me." 

"  No,  not  now,"  said  Helen. 

"Why,  you  are  not  going  down  there,  are 
you?" 

"  No,"  said  Helen  sadly. 

"  Well,  then,  come  with  me." 

But  all  Mary's  coaxing  could  not  move  Helen, 
and  she  was  obliged  reluctantly  to  let  her  go. 
Helen  longed  to  be  alone.  She  ran  on  until  she 
reached  the  little  woods,  and  throwing  herself  on 
the  ground  she  burst  into  a  passionate  fit  of  weep 
ing.  Who  does  not  know  how  bitter  it  is  to  be 
deceived  for  the  first  time?  So  disagreeable  is 
the  truth  that  we  long  not  to  believe  it.  Helen 
had,  unconsciously,  accorded  to  Mr.  Nelson  every 
virtue.  So  truly  moral  was  his  character,  that  she 
was  apt  to  forget  he  was  not  a  Christian ;  and  to 
think  that  this  wealthy  gentleman  should  not  be 
willing  to  lose  the  rent  of  Lucy's  poor  cottage  when  it 
was  for  such  an  object!  For  she  felt  convinced 


236  HELEIST   nVE^CGKREGOH,;    OR, 


that  Mr.  Nelson  had  gone  out  to  avoid  a  refusal. 
Generosity  was  one  of  Helen's  good  traits.  She 
would  give  away  the  last  mouthful  she  had  to  eat, 
or  the  last  precious  thing  she  possessed,  to  gratify 
another.  No  other  fault,  perhaps,  would  have  so 
raised  her  indignation.  No,  not  her  indignation  ; 
it  was  not  anger  that  Helen  felt,  but  keen  and  bit 
ter  disappointment.  She  had  raised  Mr.  Nelson 
on  a  pedestal  in  her  imagination,  and  endowed 
him  with  all  good  qualities,  and  it  cut  her  to  the 
heart  to  think  that  this  refined  gentleman  was 
callous  to  the  wants  of  the  poor.  Then  came 
some  tears  for  the  disappointment  of  poor  Lucy. 
And  what  was  to  become  of  the  five  little  ones 
through  the  long  cold  winter?  Helen's  old  wish 
for  wealth  came  back  again.  "Yes,"  she  thought, 
"  I  would  know  how  to  use  it  better  now,  on  the 
poor  and  the  sick.  But  I  have  not  got  it,  and 
wishing  does  not  help  poor  Lucy.  I  must  do  all 
I  can  without  it.  All  I  can  !  What  can  I  do  ? 
I  can  ask  him.  Yes,  I  will  ask  him.  Let  him 
refuse,  I  can  coax  ;  and  perhaps  he  does  not  know 
just  how  poor  they  are.  No,  I  don't  believe  he 
ever  thought  about  it.  Anyhow,  I  will  do  my 
part,"  and  jumping  up,  she  started  off  at  a  brisk 


CONQUEST    ^VISTD    SACRIFICE.  237 

pace.  "I  can  wait.  Poor  little  children,  they 
must  have  a  home.  But,"  she  thought,  suddenly 
stopping,  "  God  can  do  everything.  I  will  go  back 
and  ask  him  for  wisdom  and  guidance."  She  hastily 
ran  back  to  the  woods,  and  kneeling  on  the  soft 
green  moss,  asked  the  aid  and  blessing  of  the 
loving  Saviour,  who  bids  us  come  to  him  in  every 
time  of  need.  Helen  felt  reassured  and  comforted; 
and  stopping  no  more  she  soon  reached  Oakdale. 
She  was  surprised  when  the  servant  told  her  to 
walk  at  once  into  the  library,  as  Mr.  Nelson  was 
there.  She  had  expected  to  wait  for  him,  and  this 
sudden  meeting  took  away  all  her  courage.  It 
was  one  thing  to  resolve  boldly,  off  in  the  woods, 
quite  another  to  execute  when  the  time  came. 
The  spacious  hall  and  pompous  waiter  struck  a 
chill  to  her  heart,  and  seemed  to  accuse  her  of  pre 
sumption;  a  young  insignificant  stranger,  think 
ing  to  influence  the  master  of  Oakdale!  But 
Helen  had  no  time  to  think  much ;  the  study  door 
was  thrown  open  and  Mr.  Nelson  advanced  to 
meet  her.  She  was  a  little  surprised  at  her  cor 
dial  reception,  but  having  once  doubted,  she 
thought  with  a  pang,  "  Is  it  possible  he  is  hypo 
critical  too  ?" 


238  HELEN   MA-CGKREOOR;    OR, 

She  took  the  offered  seat,  and  said  yes  and  no  to 
Mr.  Nelson's  questions ;  but  at  length  being  un 
able  to  think  of  any  favorable  beginning,  she 
introduced  the  subject  at  once,  by  saying  tim- 
idly, 

"  I  know  you  do  not  wish  to  see  me,  Mr.  Nel 
son,  but," — 

"Do  not  wish  to  see  you,  child?"  said  that 
gentleman,  in  surprise,  "  I  am  always  glad  to  see 
you.  I  would  like  to  keep  that  merry  face  always 
at  Oakdale." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Helen,  "  I  mean, — I  mean, 
you  do  not  like  the  errand  that  has  brought  me 
here." 

"  Why,  really,  Helen,"  said  Mr.  Nelson  laugh 
ing,  "  I  shall  begin  to  think  some  of  your  own 
fairies  have  carried  off  your  senses." 

"Oh,  then,"  said  Helen,  looking  up  with  a 
bright  smile  and  feeling  much  relieved,  "  then  you 
do  not  mind  my  asking  you  ?" 

"I  think  it  likely  I  can  answer  that  ques 
tion  much  better  when  I  know  what  you  are 
going  to  ask." 

"  Why  don't  you  know  ?"  asked  Helen,  looking 
puzzled;  "ah,  then,  perhaps  it  was  because  you 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  239 

did  not  wish  to  see  me  that  you  went  out,  and  not 
because  of  my  errand." 

"Well,  well,  Helen,  I  think  there  must  be 
some  grand  mistake  here.  I  have  not  been  out 
since  this  morning,  I  assure  you,  and  I  did  not 
know  you  were  coming.  Have  some  of  the  ser 
vants  been  denying  you  admittance  ?" 
"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all ;  I  have  just  come." 
She  stopped.  She  could  scarcely  bring  herself 
to  believe  that  Mary  Rellim  had  deceived  her  so 
causelessly;  and  she  wondered  what  her  motive 
could  have  been.  But  she  did  not  think  long. 
Mr.  Nelson  was  anxious  to  know  what  was  the 
matter.  Helen  generously  refused  to  tell  him  who 
had  deceived  her,  but  very  much  encouraged,  be 
gan  her  petition  in  Lucy's  behalf.  Helen,  when 
excited  by  a  subject,  usually  spoke  with  the  elo 
quence  which  is  native  to  the  Highlanders,  and 
which  often  astonishes  strangers.  She  pleaded  for 
the  lonely  orphans  with  impassioned  earnestness ; 
and  Mr.  Nelson  allowed  her  to  go  on,  without 
giving  any  signs  of  approval.  He  loved  to  hear  that 
pleading  young  voice,  and  when  Helen  reverently 
said  that  God  would  surely  bless  him  for  it,  no 
sneer  curled  his  lip,  but  he  bowed  his  head 


240  HELEN"    MACGKRE&OR,;    OR, 

in  silence  before  the  pure  trust  of  her  childish 
faith. 

Helen  waited  for  an  answer.  She  had  told  him 
of  Lucy,  so  kind  and  motherly ;  of  all  the  endear 
ing  ways  of  the  little  ones,  down  to  roguish  Tom 
and  the  baby;  and  she  waited  almost  breathless 
for  the  result.  But  Mr.  Nelson  seemed  in  no 
hurry.  He  sat  thinking  for  some  time ;  at  length 
looking  up,  he  said  abruptly,  "Helen,  I  once 
knew  a  lady  who,  whenever  there  was  to  be  any 
deed  of  charity  done,  went  round  and  collected 
money  from  different  parties,  and  then  sending  it 
in,  in  her  name,  as  collected  by  her,  she  received 
all  the  credit,  and  was  not  obliged  to  contribute 
herself.  Now  what  do  you  think  of  that?" 

Helen  smiled.  "  I  think  she  ought  to  have 
some  credit  for  the  trouble  she  took  in  collecting, 
but  I  think  she  ought  to  have  given  something 
herself,  if  she  could  afford  to." 

"Exactly.  I  think  so  too.  Now,  if  I  give 
this  cottage  rent-free,  for  a  year,  what  is  Helen 
going  to  give  ?" 

"  I  cannot  give  much,"  said  Helen ;  "  you  know 
I  am  poor ;  but  I  have  given  all  I  can." 

"  Come,  come,  Miss  Helen ;  I  do  not  call  that 


CONQUEST    -A-ISTD    SACRIFICE.  241 

fair.  If  you  know  my  almsgiving  so  well,  I  think 
I  have  a  right  to  know  yours." 

Helen  blushed  deeply.  How  could  she  tell  him 
of  the  silk  dresses  ?  It  would  seem  like  such  a 
trifling  thing  to  him.  But  Mr.  Nelson  insisted. 
He  felt  a  strong  curiosity  to  know  if  this  young 
girl  was  as  truly  generous  as  she  appeared ;  and 
Helen,  finding  that  she  could  in  no  other  way  gain 
her  wish,  told  the  simple  story  of  the  silk  dresses, 
giving  Nora  and  Barbara  an  equal  share  of  praise. 

What  was  it  in  that  little  act  of  true  charity 
that  called  unwonted  moisture  to  the  eyes  of  the 
master  of  Oakdale  ?  Perhaps  it  was  the  recollec 
tion  of  an  unbounded  wealth,  that  never  yet  had 
fed  the  hungry  or  cheered  the  desolate. 

The  short  autumn  day  was  drawing  to  a  close, 
and  Helen  rose  to  go.  Mr.  Nelson  put  his  hands 
on  her  shoulders,  and  looking  kindly  down  into 
the  upturned  face,  said, 

"  It  is  all  right,  Helen ;  I  give  Lucy  the  cottage 
for  two  years ;  and  be  sure  and  buy  that  wonderful 
baby  some  shoes  with  this;"  and  he  put  a  five 
dollar  note  into  her  hand. 

Helen  thanked  him  warmly.  Her  full  heart 
went  up  in  gratitude  to  God  for  all  his  blessings. 

21  Q 


242  HELEN 

She  hardly  knew  how  she  got  home.  She  scarcely 
walked  a  step  of  the  way,  and  on  reaching  the 
door  burst  into  the  kitchen  where  Mrs.  Neville 
was  preparing  flannel  cakes  for  supper,  and  Nora 
was  setting  the  table,  almost  breathless  with  run 
ning  and  excited  joy. 

Certainly  the  home  scene  had  been  a  very  pleas 
ant  one  before ;  the  fire-light  shining  on  the  white 
dishes  and  bright  tins,  contrasting  with  the  gathering 
twilight  of  a  cool  fall  evening ;  but  it  seemed  more 
cheerful  still,  now,  as  Helen  joyfully,  and  almost 
hysterically,  recounted  what  she  called  "  her  ad 
ventures  j"  while  Barbara  laid  aside  her  book  to 
listen,  and  Nora  would  pause,  plate  in  hand,  to 
express  her  admiration  of  the  five  dollars,  while 
then*  merry  laughter  drowned  the  pleasant  sound 
of  the  baking  cakes. 

Yes,  no  home  can  be  happier  than  that  which  is 
blessed  by  God,  and  whose  pleasure  springs  from 
doing  good. 

Laugh  on,  young  cheerful  hearts!  Ye  are 
learning  the  pleasure  that  self-sacrifice  alone  can 
give. 


XVII. 

THE  LITTLE  SCHOOL. 

"  Be  good,  sweet  child,  and  let  who  will  be  clever  ; 

Do  noble  things,  not  dream  them,  all  day  long  ; 
So  shalt  thou  make  life,  death,  and  that  vast  forever, 
One  grand,  sweet  song." 


Tommy,  you  must  hold  still  and  get 
your  hair  combed,"  said  Lucy  Dean  to  her 
refractory  little  brother  who  persisted  in  turning 
his  head  first  one  side,  and  then  the  other  ;  "  Miss 
Helen  will  be  here  directly,  and  you  couldn't  half 
learn  your  lessons  with  such  rumpled  hair." 

"  Yes  I  could,  too  ;  I  could  learn  just  as  fast." 

"Oh,  Tommy,  what  a  naughty  way  to  talk; 
even  if  you  could  learn  just  as  fast,  Miss  Helen 
would  not  like  to  teach  you,  and  what  would  you 
do  then?" 

"  Do  !"  said  the  little  fellow,  with  a  great  flour 
ish  of  his  arms  that  knocked  the  brush  out  of 
Lucy's  hand,  "  why  I'd  play." 

"Why,  Tommy,  ain't  you   ashamed?     What 

243 


244  HELEDST   IMA-CGKREGJ-OR;    OR, 

will  you  be  when  you  grow  up,  if  you  don't  learn 
now?" 

"  I'll  be  a  dunce,"  answered  Tommy,  nothing 
daunted. 

All  the  children  laughed,  but  Tommy  persisted 
in  refusing  to  get  ready  for  school ;  so  Lucy,  after 
a  great  deal  of  exertion,  succeeded  in  getting  him 
into  the  next  room,  and  at  once  locked  him  in. 
There  he  kicked  and  screamed,  and  Lucy  gave  a 
weary  sigh ;  she  was  at  times  almost  tempted  to 
give  up  in  despair,  especially  when  Tommy  got 
one  of  his  stubborn  fits.  But  Lucy  Dean  did  not 
rely  on  her  own  strength,  and  the  cloud  soon  van 
ished  from  her  brow.  Her  greatest  earthly  joy 
was  the  friendship  of  Helen  MacGregor.  These 
two  girls,  so  different — Lucy  so  calm  and  quiet, 
Helen  so  ardent  and  impulsive — yet  cherished  for 
each  other  a  warm  regard.  The  most  love  was 
certainly  on  Lucy's  side,  for  Helen  was  Lucy's 
dearest  friend ;  and  Helen  had  already  given  the 
first  place  in  her  friendship  to  Nora, — Nora  so 
warm-hearted  and  so  true,  always  so  ready  to  help 
and  to  sympathize.  Together  they  had  commenced 
teaching  the  little  Deans,  for  Lucy  could  not  af 
ford  to  pay  for  their  schooling,  and  there  were  no 


CONQUEST    AJXTD    SA-CItlFICE.  245 

free  schools  in  Brookfield.  One  hour  every  after 
noon  these  girls  gave  up  of  their  leisure  time; 
and  it  was  no  small  sacrifice,  for  the  days  were 
getting  short,  and  Christmas  holidays  were  drawing 
near,  when  they  wanted  all  their  spare  time  to  pre 
pare  presents.  Lucy  was  just  hooking  Laura's 
dress,  when  some  one  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Why  they've  come  too  soon,"  said  Susie,  tak 
ing  an  admiring  look  in  the  glass  before  she  opened 
the  door. 

Lucy  started  forward  with  a  joyful  face ;  but  it 
was  not  Helen.  Mary  Rellim  came  in.  Some 
will  wonder  what  took  Mary  to  Lucy's  humble 
cottage ;  and  yet,  strange  to  say,  she  was  quite  a 
frequent  visitor  there.  Love  of  admiration  was 
one  of  Mary  Rellim's  great  failings,  and  she  re 
ceived  the  most  undisguised  admiration  from  the 
simple  children  of  the  cottage.  She  loved  to  have 
them  gather  around  and  praise  her  velvet  hat  and 
silk  dress.  It  was  delightful  to  the  vain  girl  to 
have  Laura  long  for  such  a  lovely  bracelet,  or  to 
drink  in  Susie's  flattering  encomiums  on  her  rosy 
cheeks  and  white  hands.  Mary  was  dressed  in 
her  new  fall  clothes,  and  she  had  come  to  be  ad 
mired  ;  so  she  felt  rather  disappointed  at  Lucy's 
21  * 


246  HELEN    lYTA-CGKREGOR ;    OR, 

saying,  "  I  thought  it  was  Helen,"  and  that  Susie, 
instead  of  lingering  by  her  side,  as  usual,  sat  down 
in  one  corner  and  began  studying  diligently. 
Laura  was  arranging  some  chairs,  and  Tom  and 
Aleck  were  absent. 

"Are  you  going  to  take  a  walk,  Mary  ?"  asked 
Lucy,  as,  having  quieted  the  baby  with  some  play 
things,  she  brought  out  her  work  and  began  to 
sew. 

"  No,  I  only  came  round  here  a  while.  Do  you 
expect  company  ?"  she  asked,  as  she  glanced  at  the 
arranged  chairs,  and  Laura's  neatly  braided  hair. 

"Only  Helen  and  Nora,"  said  Lucy. 

"  Oh,"  said  Mary,  with  some  scorn,  "  they  are 
such  strangers,  I  suppose,  that  you  have  to  make  a 
fuss  over  them." 

"Not  much  of  strangers,"  said  Susie,  laughing; 
"  why  don't  you  know  they  come  here  every  day 
to  teach  us  ?  Helen  calls  this  her  little  school." 

Mary  looked  surprised;  she  knew  that  Helen 
had  joined  the  church,  but  she  would  not  have 
given  her  credit  for  a  sacrifice  which  seemed  enor 
mous  to  her  ease-loving  disposition. 

"  I  expect  then  she  is  quite  a  friend  of  yours, 
Miss  Susie?" 


CONQUEST    .AJSTO    SACRIFICE.  247 

"Oh,  I  do  love  her  dearly,  she  is  so  sweet." 

"  I  like  Nora  the  best,"  said  Laura  ;  "  but  our 
Tom  will  not  mind  Nora,  because  she  laughs  when 
he  says  anything  funny." 

"  I  met  Helen  the  other  day  going  to  Oakdale," 
said  Mary. 

"  Yes,"  said  Lucy, "  she  is  a  great  favorite  there, 
and  I  don't  wonder." 

"  No,  I  don't  wonder  either,"  answered  Mary ; 
"  any  body  who  can  flatter  and  cozen  round,  will 
be  liked  by  Mr.  Nelson,  ma  says.  Why,  would 
you  believe  it,  she  is  always  running  there.  The 
other  day,  when  I  met  her,  it  was  getting  quite 
dark,  and  I  don't  doubt  that  she  went  there  to 
get  invited  to  tea." 

"Oh,  Mary,"  said  Lucy  indignantly,  "how  can 
you  talk  so  ?  I  know  she  very  seldom  goes  there ; 
and  the  other  afternoon  she  went  for  me." 

"  For  you !"  said  Mary  scornfully,  "  so  you  too 
are  a  great  friend  of  his,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Lucy  with  dignity,  "  I  am  a 
great  friend  of  his,  although  I  have  never  spoken 
to  him ;  a  great  friend  of  his,  because  he  has  given 
me  this  cottage,  rent  free,  for  two  years.  And  he 
did  it  because  Helen,  noble  and  generous  as  she  is, 


248  HETT^lggr   MACOBECKm;   OS, 


asked  him  to  do  it  ;  and  I  heard  old  Wilkins  the 
gardener  say  that  he  would  never  have  done  it  for 
anyone  else.  And  never,"  continued  Lucy,  as  the 
tears  started  to  her  eyes,  "never  say  anything  to 
me  against  Helen  MacGregor,  for  I  love  her,  and 
I  will  not  listen  to  it" 

All  looked  amazed  to  see  the  usually  quiet  Lucy 
thus  aroused,  and  Mary  opened  her  lips  to  reply, 
when  she  was  interrupted  by  a  knock  at  the  door, 
and  Helen  and  libra  entered.  Nora  looked  slightly 
annoyed  when  she  saw  Mary  sitting  there  ;  for  al 
though  she,  as  well  as  Helen,  intended  becoming  a 
teacher,  yet  she  did  not  wish  her  first  attempts  at 
tearJiimr  the  multiplication  table  to  such  a  refrac 
tory  pupil  as  Tommy,  commented  upon  by  so  se 
vere  a  critic;  but  seeing  that  Helen  did  not  seem 
to  mind  it,  she  too  welcomed  Mary  cordially,  and 
seconded  Helen's  invitation  to  stay  and  see  the 
school  exercises. 

Mary,  hardened  as  she  was,  could  not  help 
blushing  when  she  spoke  to  Helen;  but  Helen 
seemed  so  utterly  unconscious,  and  treated  her  so 
kindly,  that  Mary  came  to  the  conclusion  that  she 
had  not  suspected  her  ungenerous  conduct,  and  felt 
very  much  relieved.  She  soon  became  greatly 


"  In  bounds  Helen  dressed  as  a  Highland  maid."    p.  205. 


CONQUEST   AND    SA-CItrFICE.  249 

interested.  Aleck  came  in  just  in  time,  and  Tom 
was  brought  from  his  prison  in  the  back  room, 
where  he  had  employed  his  time  in  looking 
through  the  key-hole.  Lucy  had  whispered  to 
Helen  the  cause  of  Tommy's  punishment,  with  the 
pathetic  appeal, 

"  Do,  dear  Helen,  do  something  with  him ;  I 
can  not  manage  him  at  all." 

Tom  took  his  seat  in  the  class  with  a  rather 
downcast  air,  and  turned  very  red,  when  Helen 
said  gravely, 

"  Have  you  just  got  up,  Tommy  ?" 

"No,  ma'am." 

"Oh,  then  I  expect  you  have  not  looked  at 
your  hair  yet ;  or  have  you  forgotten  to  brush  it  ? 
Come  here,  I  must  brush  it  for  you." 

Tommy  made  some  show  of  rebellion,  but  Helen 
seemed  so  resolute,  he  thought  best  to  submit. 

"  Now,  Tommy,  I  must  tell  you,"  said  Helen, 
"  that  every  time  you  come  in  school  with  your 
hair  unbrushed,  I  shall  brush  it  for  you." 

Tommy  walked  to  his  seat  with  downcast  eyes, 
and  did  not  see  the  laughing  looks  that  were  di 
rected  towards  him,  as  he  sat  down  entirely  uncon 
scious  that  his  hair  was  parted  in  the  middle! 


250  HELEN   MACGKREQOR;    OK,, 

Helen  had  already  gone  when  he  discovered  it,  or 
I  am  afraid  she  would  have  had  rather  an  unruly 
scholar. 

Helen  taught  Aleck  and  Tommy  their  a-b,  abs, 
while  Nora  heard  Laura  and  Susie  spell.  Then 
they  exchanged  classes,  and  Helen  gave  the  girls 
addition  sums  on  their  slates,  while  Nora  taught 
the  boys  the  multiplication  table;  then  the  last  quar 
ter  of  an  hour  was  devoted  to  attempts  at  reading  j 
each  being  ambitious  to  learn  to  read  the  best  and 
soonest.  This  rivalry  was  principally  between 
Laura  and  Susie ;  Laura  was  a  year  the  elder,  but 
Susie  was  the  smarter  of  the  two,  and  indeed,  per 
haps,  the  brightest  of  the  children.  Tommy's  bar- 
berizing  had  detained  them  a  little,  so  that  Susie, 
looking  uneasily  at  the  clock  said, 

"  Indeed,  Helen,  if  Laura  don't  read  faster,  I 
shall  not  get  to  read." 

"Wouldn't  it  do,  if  I  were  to  hear  her  this 
once,  Helen  ?"  asked  Mary  timidly. 

She  had  looked  on  with  an  interest  entirely  new 
to  her,  and  longed  to  take  part.  Susie  pouted  a 
little,  but  Helen  said  kindly, 

"  Oh,  if  you  only  would,  Mary,  I  should  be  so 
much  obliged." 


CONQUEST  ^^rr>  SACRIFICE.        251 


Mary  had  a  real  talent  for  teaching,  undis 
covered  and  unknown  to  herself  until  that  after 
noon  ;  both  teacher  and  pupil  became  so  interested 
in  the  pronunciation  of  hard  words,  that  they  con 
tinued  the  lesson  after  school  was  dismissed. 

"How  I  like  you  for  a  reading  teacher,"  said 
Susie,  looking  up  into  Mary's  face. 

Mary  felt  pleased.  Perhaps  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life  the  spoiled  child  of  fortune  had  tried  to 
please  another  ;  and  so  she  answered  laughingly, 

"  And  I  do  love  to  teach  ;  I  never  tried  it  be 
fore," 

"  I  guess  you  would  soon  get  tired  of  it,"  said 
Lucy  ;  "  lessons  do  not  always  go  as  smoothly  as 
that  did  ;  I  know  a  little  girl  that  sometimes  pouts, 
and  does  not  want  to  learn." 

Susie  smiled  and  looked  shyly  at  Helen;  and 
then  running  up,  and  putting  her  arms  around 
her,  she  said  coaxingly, 

"  You  do  not  get  tired  of  me,  do  you,  Helen  ?" 

"No,  not  yet,  at  least,"  answered  Helen. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  should  ever  tire  of  teaching," 
said  Mary. 

Helen  looked  at  her;  she  saw  that  she  was 
pleased  and  interested,  and  the  thought  instantly 


252  HELE3ST    MACGKREOOR, ;    OR, 

crossed  her  mind,  that  perhaps,  if  they  could  get 
Mary  to  take  part  in  this  simple  work,  it  might 
lead  her  on  to  higher  good;  so  she  said  smil 
ing1^ 

"I  wish  I  had  another  assistant  teacher;  I 
think  we  could  then  introduce  writing  in  the 
higher  classes.  Would  you  like  to  aid  us  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  should  love  to  come,"  said  Mary  eagerly, 
all  her  jealousy  and  ill  feeling  gone  in  prospect 
of  the  pleasure  of  this  new  employment.  Helen 
paused  thoughtfully  a  moment,  and  then  said, 

"  You  will  not  think  hard  of  it,  Mary,  if  I  say 
that  we  must  have  punctual  teachers  ?" 

Mary  looked  a  little  haughty  at  this  assumption 
of  principalship,  but  Nora  hastened  to  say, 
.  "  Why,  you  know,  Mary,  it  would  put  all  our 
lessons  out  of  order  the  days  you  would  stay  away; 
and  we  would  not  know  what  to  depend  on." 

"Yes,  so  it  would,"  said  Mary  frankly.  "I 
will  come  punctually." 

Helen  thanked  her  for  her  kind  offer  of  assis 
tance,  which  won  Id  be  really  valuable  to  them, 
and  then  began  to  arrange  for  the  next  day's 
school.  Helen  gave  Susie  to  Mary  to  teach,  know 
ing  that  she  was  the  smartest,  and  therefore  would 


CONQUEST   ANX>    SA.CRIIPICE.  253 


reflect  the  most  credit  on  her  teacher,  and  to  en 
courage  Mary  in  her  first  efforts  at  self-denial. 

This  was  the  starting  point  of  Mary  Rellim's 
improvement.  Lucy  prophesied  that  she  would 
be  tired  in  a  week  ;  and  Mrs.  Neville  shook  her 
head  gravely  ;  but  Nora  and  Helen  were  hopeful, 
and  they  were  not  disappointed.  Mary  had  a 
natural  gift  for  teaching  ;  she  felt  that  she  did  it 
well,  and  "  we  all  like  to  do  what  we  know  we  do 
well."  Her  old  jealousy  of  Helen  began  to  dis 
appear.  Unconsciously  she  learned  to  admire  and 
to  imitate  the  Christian  life  of  the  two  girls,  with 
whom  she  was  now  thrown  in  daily  intercourse. 
They  did  not  talk  much  in  school  hours,  but  there 
was  the  long  walk  home  together  after  school,  for 
Lucy  lived  a  little  out  of  the  village. 

It  is  impossible  for  people  to  be  brought  con 
stantly  into  each  other's  society  without  the  stronger 
influencing  the  weaker,  and  Mary  Rellim  soon 
learned  that  Helen  and  Nora  never  gossipped,  and 
that  she  must  not  sneer  at  goodness  in  their  pres 
ence.  They  always  had  many  other  things  to  talk 
of,  besides  dress,  and  Mary  soon  found  herself  get 
ting  into  the  same  habits. 

Oh,  the  blessed  power  of  good  influence  !     Yvrho 


254  HELEN 

ean  reckon  up  the  thousands  it  has  saved  from 
everlasting  death  ?  Mrs.  B-ellim  had  never  troubled 
herself  much  about  her  children,  so  that  they  be 
haved  genteelly,  and  kept  out  of  mischief;  but  the 
fondest  mother  could  not  have  chosen  for  her 
child  better  companions ;  and  many  an  evening 
did  Mary  sit  in  the  cottage  planning  over  with 
her  youthful  companions  new  schemes  of  improve 
ment  in  the  little  school.  And  then,  she  too  would 
kneel  with  them  in  the  evening  worship. 

"  The  massive  gates  of  circumstance 

Are  turned  upon  the  smallest  hinge ; 
And  thus  some  seeming  pettiest  chance 
Oft  gives  our  life  its  after  tinge." 

Thus  Mary's  visit  to  the  orphans'  cottage  was 
overruled,  in  God's  mercy,  to  her  eternal  good.  It 
was  her  first  step  in  the  path  towards  the  narrow 
road. 


XVIII. 

WINTER. 

"We  know  'tis  good  old  winter  should  come, 
Roving  awhile  from  his  Lapland  home; 
"Tis  fitting  that  we  should  hear  the  sound 
Of  his  reindeer  sledge  on  the  slippery  ground." 

MONTHS  fly  past  on  joy-tipped  wings  when 
each  hour  brings  its  appropriate  work  and 
leaves  it  well  performed.  Oh,  happy  industry! 
Those  alone  who  have  learned  thy  pleasant  ways 
know  how  much  happiness  earth  has  for  them. 
Oh,  how  pitiable  the  lot  of  those  children  who 
are  brought  up  to  do  nothing!  They  carry  the 
misery  of  idleness  with  them  through  long  years, 
to  throw  a  pall  of  discontent  over  all  the  fair 
things  of  life. 

The  young  girls  of  the  cottage  enjoyed  their 
play  hours  with  all  the  sweeter  zest,  because  they 
could  think  with  such  lively  satisfaction  of  neatly 
mended  clothes,  of  an  orderly  household,  of  the 

hours  given   to  faithful  study,  and  to  "heaven- 

255 


256  HELE3ST    M A-CGHEtEGJOR ;    OR, 

born  charity."  The  autumn  had  passed  away,  and 
left  the  memory  of  its  many  treasures  aud  pleasures 
richly  enjoyed.  Study  and  work  had  both  been 
pursued  with  greater  ardor  as  the  cool  weather  ad 
vanced,  and  began  to  reinvigorate  their  systems. 
Home  too,  seemed  dearer  to  the  girls  as  the  chilly 
evenings  made  them  welcome  the  closed  windows 
and  cheerful  fire.  In  summer  time  our  homes 
may  be  pleasant,  but  they  lack  the  cosy  comfort 
of  the  fire-side.  The  little  school  had  made  good 
progress.  Writing  had  been  introduced,  and  read 
ing  had  become  a  pleasure.  The  refractory  had 
been  reduced  to  good  order,  and  the  teachers  had 
learned  to  take  the  warmest  interest  in  the  im 
provement  of  their  little  scholars.  They  had  had 
their  long  delightful  walks  in  the  lovely  sunshine 
of  Indian  summer,  when  they  gathered  the  last 
relics  of  earth's  decaying  splendor,  the  brilliant 
leaves  of  the  forest,  or  the  last  hardy  flowers  of 
fall ;  when  they  watched  the  squirrels  in  the  almost 
uncovered  woods,  and  trod  with  rustling  step 
amidst  the  thick  dead  leaves.  Then  there  had 
been  the  storing  away  of  hickory-nuts  and  apples 
for  the  long  winter  evenings ;  and  the  chestnuting 
times  when  Nora  would  come  in  exclaiming  that 


CONQUEST   AND   SACRIFICE.  257 

she  had  "  never  enjoyed  such  a  day  in  her  life." 
The  autumn  had  indeed  been  a  very  happy  one. 
But  now  old  white-headed  winter  had  assumed  his 
authority  and  brought  along  with  him  the  usual 
amount  of  sleigh-riding  and  snow-balling.  It  was 
only  two  weeks  from  Christmas,  and  the  sewing 
hours  for  all  that  time  were  to  be  given  up  to  the 
making  of  presents. 

The  short  December  day  was  waning.  Helen, 
Barbara,  and  Nora,  each  drew  their  chairs  closer 
to  the  window  to  take  advantage  of  the  few  re 
maining  moments  of  daylight,  and  conversed  in 
very  low  tones,  so  as  not  to  disturb  Mrs.  Neville 
who  was  writing  at  another  window.  There 
seemed  to  be  an  unwonted  sadness  over  the  little 
group ;  and  Nora  every  now  and  then  would  stoop 
over  and  kiss  Helen's  cheek,  saying,  in  a  half 
mirthful,  half  sad  tone, 

"  I  am  going  to  take  as  many  kisses  now  as  I 
can  get,  while  I  have  you  here." 

And  Helen  would  laughingly  reply  that  she 
had  not  gone  yet.  Yes ;  a  change  was  brooding 
over  the  happy  inmates  of  the  cottage.  They 
were  to  separate.  But  we  will  read  Mrs.  Neville's 
letter  for  an  explanation. 
22  *  B 


258  HERETO"    MACGKREQOR;    OR, 

It  ran  thus : 

DEAR  SISTER  STELLA, — You  will  wonder,  I  dare  say,  at  my 
writing  this  letter  ere  I  receive  an  answer  to  my  last,  knowing 
that  I  am  such  a  poor  correspondent.  Do  not  be  at  all  alarmed 
though;  there  is  nothing  serious  the  matter,  neither  have  I  re 
ceived,  what  you  remember  in  my  school  girl  days  I  was  always 
wishing  for,  the  pen  of  Madame  de  Sevigne'.  No;  I  simply  want 
what  Sheridan  once  called  the  worst  of  all  vices,  advice.  And 
therefore  I  come  to  you,  my  more  than  sister,  for  did  you  not 
through  long  years  give  me  a  mother's  love  and  care  ?  So  as  you 
have  spoiled  your  sister  by  making  her  depend  so  much  on  you, 
you  must  go  on  through  life,  still  bearing  the  burden  of  her  trou 
bles,  and  still  advising. 

You  do  not  know  our  Helen,  excepting,  that  is,  by  letter.  You 
have  heard  who  she  is,  how  she  came  to  be  with  us,  and  how  we 
all  have  learned  to  love  her.  Her  happy,  generous  disposition 
you  cannot  appreciate  without  living  with  her.  She  has  endeared 
herself  to  us  all,  and  to  part  with  her  would  be  a  keen  sorrow ; 
but  you  know  we  are  not  wealthy,  and  Helen,  like  my  own  dear 
girls,  must  expect  to  earn  her  own  livelihood  when  she  is  old 
enough  to  teach,  that  is,  if  she  remains  with  me.  But  a  home  of 
wealth,  a  life  of  ease,  has  been  offered  to  our  Scotch  girl.  You 
remember  Mr.  Nelson,  our  rich,  eccentric  landlord  ?  From  the 
very  first  he  took  a  strong  liking  to  Helen,  and  he  now  wishes  to 
adopt  her  as  his  own  daughter.  The  dear  child  cannot  bear  to 
think  of  leaving  us,  but  she  has  left  the  matter  entirely  in  my 
hands.  The  question  is,  what  ought  I  to  say  ?  Mr.  Nelson  is  a 
perfect  gentleman,  upright  and  moral,  but  alas !  he  is  not  a  Chris 
tian.  Helen  thinks  a  great  deal  of  him.  May  there  not  be  dan 
ger  that  he  will  lead  her  young  feet  out  of  the  narrow  way,  into 
the  deep  waters  of  his  own  cold  skepticism  ?  And  yet,  on  the 
other  hand,  ought  I  to  deprive  Helen  of  the  comfort  and  advan- 


CONQUEST    A.TJTD    SACRIFICE.  259 

tages  that  wealth  gives  ?  She  is  to  receive,  if  she  goes  there, 
every  opportunity  of  a  liberal  education.  And  then  too,  I  some 
times  wonder  if  God  may  not  be  sending  her  there  for  his  own 
good  purposes,  perhaps  even  to  lead  the  master  of  Oakdale,  by  the 
example  of  her  simple  faith,  to  the  foot  of  the  cross.  For  is  it  not 
written  "  out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  and  sucklings  thou  hast  per 
fected  praise  ?"  And  may  she  not  one  day  teach  him  that  wealth 
is  a  sacred  trust,  to  be  used  in  helping  the  poor  and  in  spreading 
the  glad  tidings  of  salvation  ?  Six  months  ago  I  should  have 
answered  unhesitatingly,  no ;  but  Helen  has  since  then  learned  to 
care  little  for  earthly  treasures;  she  has  found  the  priceless  pearl; 
and  each  day  seems  to  add  to  her  Christian  firmness  and  spiritual 
growth.  Nora  and  Barbara  are  quite  disconsolate  at  the  idea  of 
losing  their  companion.  What  shall  I  do  ?  But  you  cannot  judge 
well  without  knowing  Helen.  Come,  then,  and  pay  us  that  long 
promised  visit.  Do  come.  Mind,  I  will  take  no  refusal.  Tell 
father  he  must  go  over  to  Edith's,  and  stay  till  you  come  back; 
I  know  it  is  useless  to  ask  him  to  come  so  far  in  this  cold 
weather. 

Nora  and  Barbara  send  grandpa  and  aunt  Edith  and  cousin 
Stella  a  great  deal  of  love ;  they  will  not  send  aunt  Stella  any,  as 
they  expect  to  see  her  soon,  and  give  it  to  her  fresh  from  their  rosy 
lips.  December  sunlight  tarries  such  a  little  while,  I  can  scarcely 
see  to  finish  this.  Come  soon,  and  give  our  cottage  the  sunshine 
of  aunt  Stella's  smile.  With  much  love, 

Your  affectionate  sister 

REBECCA. 

Two  weeks  passed  away  without  bringing  a 
reply  to  this  letter,  either  in  the  shape  of  aunt 
Stella,  or  her  hand-writing.  Mr.  Nelson  waited 
impatiently  for  the  answer  Mrs.  Neville  delayed 


260  HBIjEOST   MACGKREGOR;    OR,, 

to  give.  In  the  meantime,  he  showed  special 
kindliness  of  feeling  towards  Helen  and  the  girls, 
appreciating  their  tender  relationship,  and  desiring 
if  possible  to  reconcile  Helen  the  more  readily  to 
the  proposed  change,  if  it  should  be  finally  agreed 
upon.  Thus  the  day  before  Christmas  he  drove 
up  to  Mrs.  Neville's  door  in  a  fine  sleigh  with 
prancing  horses  and  ringing  silver  bells,  to  take 
the  whole  party  sleigh-riding.  Mrs.  Neville  de 
clined  going,  but  the  three  girls  were  in  high  glee, 
and  enjoyed  the  ride  as  only  girlhood  can.  They 
took  supper  at  a  hotel  in  the  next  village  some  ten 
miles  off,  and  returned  by  brilliant  moonlight. 
Just  as  the  party  reached  home,  and  before  the 
sleigh  had  fairly  stopped,  Nora  exclaimed, 

"  Oh,  aunt  Stella  has  come !  Aunt  Stella  has 
come!  I'm  certain.  Didn't  you  see  the  man 
just  come  out  of  the  gate?  he  has  been  taking  in 
her  trunk,"  and  barely  giving  Mr.  Nelson  time  to 
lift  her  out  she  ran  towards  the  house.  Barbara 
followed  swiftly,  and  Mr.  Nelson,  holding  Helen 
a  moment  whispered, 

"  Do  not  let  them  decide  against  me,  my  child." 

Helen  said  nothing ;  but  for  the  first  time  she 

wished  to  go  to  Oakdale.     The  solitary  life  of  its 


CONQUEST    -A.ND    SACRIiniCK.  261 


master  rose  before  her,  cheered  by  no  loving  voice; 
not  even  solaced  by  the  Saviour's  love,  or  the  joy 
that  religion  sheds  over  the  most  desolate  sur 
roundings. 

"  After  all,"  she  thought,  as  she  walked  slowly 
up  the  garden  path,  "we  are  not  to  do  just  what 
we  like  best  in  this  world.  Mr.  Ashton  used  to 
say  that  each  had  a  life-work;  perhaps  this  is 
mine,  and  I  will  try  and  not  shrink  from  it. 
Surely,  living  an  easy  life,  in  a  handsome  home, 
can  be  no  hard  lot.  I  remember  well  the  time 
when  I  would  not  have  hesitated.  But  then  I  did 
not  know  the  Nevilles.  Kind,  motherly  Mrs. 
Neville  ;  dear,  studious,  quiet,  Barbara,  and  dar 
ling,  lovely  Nora  !  I  almost  hope  they  will  say 
no." 

Helen  lingered  a  few  minutes,  enjoying  the 
beautiful  night.  She  almost  dreaded  to  go  in; 
she  had  heard  so  much  about  this  favorite  aunt, 
that  she  rather  feared  to  meet  her.  She  could  re 
main  outside,  no  longer,  however,  for  Nora  came 
in  search  of  her  ;  and  taking  her  in,  with  her  arm 
around  her,  she  said, 

"  This  is  our  sister  Helen,  auntie,  and  you  are 
to  decide  that  she  shall  not  go  away  from  us." 


262  HELEN   MA.CGH1EQOR,;   OR, 

Helen  felt  the  warm  lingering  kiss  and  heard  a 
sweet  voice  say,  "  another  niece  to  be  loved,"  and 
looking  up  into  the  kindly  face  above  her,  she  felt 
that  Nora's  extravagant  praise  of  her  aunt  had  not 
been  too  freely  bestowed. 

Miss  Stella  Ashton  was  past  middle  age,  but 
she  looked  much  younger.  "  The  peace  of  God 
which  passeth  all  understanding,"  dwelt  in  her 
heart,  and  shed  its  hallowing  light  over  her  whole 
countenance.  Her  hair  was  black  and  glossy,  and 
her  dark  eye  had  lost  none  of  its  youthful  bril 
liancy.  The  mouth  was  firm,  and  spoke  of  duty 
fulfilled  at  all  hazards;  but  the  genial  smile  so 
seldom  left  the  lip,  that  this  was  scarcely  noticed. 
It  was,  as  Nora  always  said,  "aunt  Stella's  own 
smile." 

"  But  how  did  you  know  I  was  here  ?"  asked 
aunt  Stella,  after  their  bonnets  and  cloaks  had  been 
laid  aside,  and  the  merry  group  had  gathered 
round  the  fire. 

"  Just  as  if  we  didn't  know  you  would  come  on 
Christmas  eve,  like  a  Christmas  present!"  said 
Nora,  archly. 

"You  must  have  had  something  more  certain 
to  judge  by  than  the  whimsical  notions  of  this 


CONQUEST    A-ND    SA.CRIB'ICIi:.  263 


little  head,"  said  aunt  Stella,  giving  Nora's  short 
curls  some  caressing  pulls. 

"Yes,"  said  Barbara,  "we  saw  the  man  come 
out  who  brought  your  trunk." 

"  I  do  not  think  you  saw  so  much  as  that,  my 
dear,  for  my  trunk  is  still  at  the  depot." 

"  Still  at  the  depot  !"  repeated  Barbara,  as 
tonished. 

"  But  we  certainly  saw  a  man  come  out,"  said 
Helen. 

"I  think  it  very  likely  you  did,"  said  Mrs. 
Neville  smiling,  "for  there  certainly  was  a  man 
here." 

"Now,  mother,"  said  Nora  laughing,  "I  know 
you  just  want  to  make  us  curious  ;  and  I  am  not 
going  to  ask  any  questions,  to  show  my  curiosity, 
but  I  shall  just  run  out  in  the  kitchen  and  take  a 
look  round." 

Barbara  and  Helen  followed  her  and  they  soon 
returned,  carrying  a  small  box  on  which  was  writ 
ten,  "  For  the  three  bonny  lasses  of  the  cottage, 
Christmas,  185  —  ."  It  was  from  Oakdale,  as  they 
had  expected,  and  contained  three  handsome  silk 
dresses. 

Mr.  Nelson  it  seemed,  had  not  forgotten  the 


264  HELEN 

history  of  their  first  silks.  Now,  indeed,  they  felt 
that  their  slight  self-sacrifice  had  been  more  than 
repaid.  Their  spontaneous  expression  was  one  of 
sincerest  thankfulness  to  their  kind  and  generous 
friend.  The  box  also  contained  a  short  note  for 
Mrs.  Neville,  begging  her  to  let  the  girls  receive 
the  dresses  as  a  token  of  the  sincere  admiration 
with  which  he  had  heard  of  their  ready  sacrifice 
of  self.  Mrs.  Neville  allowed  them  to  keep  the 
dresses,  but  she  did  not  show  them  the  note. 

Christmas  day  was  very  happily  spent.  Love 
tokens  were  continually  coming  and  going.  Lucy 
and  her  little  flock  were  not  forgotten  in  the  gene 
ral  rejoicing.  Two  or  three  warm  dresses  with 
turkey  and  mince  pies  found  their  way  from  Mrs. 
Neville's  cottage  to  Lucy's.  Aunt  Stella's  pre 
sence  added  another  charm  to  Christmas;  and 
when  her  trunk  arrived  in  the  afternoon,  and 
grandpa's  presents  as  well  as  her  own  were  dis 
tributed,  pleasure  reigned  supreme.  Each  one 
sank  to  sleep  that  night  with  a  prayer  of  thanks 
giving  on  her  lips  to  that  God,  who  to  the  mani 
fold  gifts  of  our  daily  life  added  the  ygt  greater 
gift  of  his  only  Son. 


XIX. 

ANOTHER   HOMJS. 

"  It  is  not  much  the  world  can  give 

With  all  its  subtle  art, 
And  gold  and  gems  are  not  the  things 

To  satisfy  the  heart; 
But  oh,  if  those  who  cluster  round 

The  altar  and  the  hearth, 
Have  gentle  words  and  loving  smiles, 

How  beautiful  is  earth !" 

THIGHTEEN  months  had  passed  away,  and 
-L^  lovely  June,  the  crown  of  summer,  smiled  in 
beauty  over  hill  and  dale.  The  warm  sunshine 
lit  into  beauty  the  grand  old  oaks  and  bent  the 
fair  heads  of  the  myriad  flowers  around  the  white 
stone  house ;  and  Oakdale  looked  very  lovely. 

The  hall  door  opened,  and  Helen  ran  lightly 
down  the  broad  marble  steps  and  through  the  long 
avenue,  then  looked  anxiously  down  the  road. 
The  same  Helen  as  of  yore,  only  a  little  taller  and 
more  womanly.  But  her  eye  still  had  its  trusting 
look,  her  long  dark  curls  still  floated  free,  only 

23  265 


266  HELEN   MA.CGHIEGK)R,;    OR-, 

bound  to  the  head  by  a  scarlet  ribbon.  The  deli 
cate  folds  of  a  white  India  muslin,  which  touched 
the  ground,  made  her  look  rather  taller  than  she 
really  was. 

"I  wonder  why  they  do  not  come?"  she  ex 
claimed  a  little  impatiently;  "  it  is  quarter  of  three, 
and  I  shall  give  Nora  a  good  scolding ;  I  told  her 
to  be  here  at  half-past  two,  and  to  think  I  sent  the 
carriage  so  as  to  hurry  them !"  And  Helen 
turned  away,  and  began  walking  up  and  down  the 
stately  avenue  whose  thick  trees  only  admitted  the 
sunlight  in  brilliant  patches. 

For  the  last  sixteen  months  Helen  had  lived  at 
Oakdale.  Many  bitter  tears  had  been  shed  at 
parting  with  the  dear  ones  at  the  cottage ;  and  it 
was  some  time  before  Mrs.  Neville  could  believe 
that  her  sister's  advice  was  best — that  Helen  had 
no  right  to  shrink  from  the  destiny  that  seemed 
marked  out  for  her.  The  three  girls  were  almost 
inconsolable  at  the  thought  of  separation ;  and  none 
the  less,  surely,  after  it  had  been  accomplished. 
Nora  and  Barbara  often  looked  at  Helen's  vacant 
desk  with  tears  and  ill  suppressed  sighs.  They 
missed  her  everywhere,  and  most  at  the  daily 
tasks  which  she  had  always  shared  with  them. 


CONQUEST   ^VND    S^CKIFICE.  267 


And  as  Mr.  Nelson  listened  with  a  pleased  smile 
to  Helen's  light  footstep  on  the  stair  case,  or  her 
song  in  the  hall,  he  rejoiced  that  this  vision  of 
youth  had  come  to  cheer  the  gloomy  old  house, 
without  knowing  that  Helen  sighed  as  she  sang  ; 
that  she  never  trod  the  marble  hall,  or  sat  down 
in  the  luxurious  chair  to  repeat  her  lessons  to  her 
governess,  without  a  yearning  wish  for  Nora's 
cheerful  face  and  comical  answers,  or  Barbara's 
quiet  smile.  But  time  is  a  great  consoler  ; 
and  when  sixteen  months  had  passed  away  they 
had  become  used  to  being  apart,  although  during 
that  time  they  saw  each  other  almost  daily. 

Two  things  Helen  had  insisted  upon  as  condi 
tions  of  her  acceptance  of  Mr.  Nelson's  offer  ;  and 
to  both  he  had  given  a  rather  reluctant  consent. 
The  first  was,  that  she  should  never  be  obliged  to 
give  up  her  little  school  until  the  children  left  to 
earn  their  own  living  ;  the  second,  which  was  sug 
gested  by  aunt  Stella,  was  that  she  should  be  per 
mitted  to  read  him  a  chapter  in  the  Bible  every 
night  before  retiring.  Both  duties  had  been 
strictly  fulfilled.  Thus  it  happened  that  they  met 
so  frequently,  and  Helen  nearly  always  stopped  at 
the  cottage  on  her  way  back.  On  the  afternoon 


268  HELEN"   IM^LCGHtEGOR,;    OR, 


now  introduced,  she  was  expecting  them  all  there 
to  tea.  I  say  all,  as  she  included  Mrs.  Neville 
and  aunt  Stella,  who  was  again  at  the  cottage  on  a 
visit.  The  clock  struck  three,  and  Helen  gave  an 
impatient  sigh,  just  as  the  carriage  rolled  in  at  the 
gate. 

"  Oh,  Nora  !"  she  exclaimed,  as  they  were  get 
ting  out,  "I  think  you  richly  deserve  a  good 
scolding.  Here  I  have  been  tiring  myself  out, 
walking  up  and  down  the  avenue,  and  wearing  out 
my  neck  looking  over  the  gate  ;  and  you  said  you 
would  hurry  them  all  off!" 

"Don't,  please  don't  scold  me,"  said  Nora 
laughing  ;  "  it  was  all  aunt  Stella's  fault." 

"  Yes,"  said  aunt  Stella,  "  I  plead  guilty  to  the 
charge,  and  I  shall  expect  the  clemency  of  the 
court  when  I  make  my  confession." 

"But  I  warn  you,  Aunt  Stella,"  said  Helen 
merrily,  "  that  if  the  excuse  is  not  good,  you  shall 
have  the  severest  punishment  the  law  allows. 
Why,  did  I  not  put  aside  all  lessons  at  twelve 
o'clock,  and  have  dinner  a  half  hour  earlier,  which 
made  Mr.  Nelson  say,  '  Helen,  my  child,  I  shall 
begin  to  be  jealous  of  those  special  friends,  if  you 
do  not  take  care?'  Oh,  you  need  not  look  grave, 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  269 

my  sage  Nora ;  it  Is  very  seldom  I  exercise  my 
authority;  and  I  generally  study  even  to  suit 
you." 

"  How  is  Mr.  Nelson  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Neville. 

"  He  is  very  well,  thank  you ;  but  he  said  he 
would  not  join  us  until  supper  time ;  he  has  some 
thing  to  attend  to." 

All  this  time  the  guests  had  been  removing 
their  things  in  Helen's  own  room.  When  they 
had  concluded,  Helen  proposed  going  down  to  the 
dell  and  sewing  under  the  trees.  This  was  unani 
mously  agreed  to,  Nora  saying  that  it  did  not  seem 
like  work  to  her  to  sew  out  of  doors. 

Nothing  could  be  lovelier  than  that  shaded  grove 
on  that  warm  afternoon.  The  air  swept  through 
the  branching  oaks  with  refreshing  coolness,  and 
the  little  cascades  splashed  and  murmured  in  sweet 
harmony  with  the  birds'  songs.  They  found  camp 
stools  awaiting  them,  and  each  one  took  out  her 
sewing  and  seated  herself  comfortably  for  a  social 
afternoon.  Conversation  has  a  rare  charm  when 
carried  on  intelligently  and  well;  and  busy  fin 
gers  and  busy  tongues  add  wings  to  time.  The 
sun  was  nearing  the  west,  and  sending  his  long 
crimson  rays  deep  into  the  midst  of  the  dell, 

23  * 


270  HELEN   MA.CGR.EGOR;    OR, 

making  the  modest  little  stream  blush  with  even 
greater  beauty. 

"  How  lovely  it  is  here,"  said  aunt  Stella,  gazing 
around.  It  was  her  first  visit  to  Oakdale. 

"Yes,"  said  Barbara;  "here  is  where  we  ate 
our  dinners  the  first  pic-nic  we  ever  had  to 
gether." 

"Rather  a  small  pic-nic,"  said  Mrs.  Neville, 
"  only  three  persons." 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell  you,"  said  Helen,  « that 
I  have  named  this  charming  spot.  Mr.  Nelson 
told  me  to  do  so  and  then  afterwards  he  laughed 
at  my  choosing  such  a  gloomy  name." 

"  Why,  what  did  you  call  it  ?"  asked  Nora. 

"'Cypress  Dell.'  Don't  you  see  those  three 
cypresses?  And  somehow,  when  I  come  here 
alone  it  does  seem  very  gloomy." 

"  You  must  have  been  thinking  of  old  funeral 
rites,  Helen,"  said  Mrs.  Neville,  "  when  they  used 
cypress  as  their  emblem  of  gloom." 

"  I  was  reading  only  the  other  day,"  said  Bar 
bara,  "that  the  coffins  containing  the  Egyptian 
mummies  were  nearly  all  made  of  cypress  wood." 

"  Yes,  but  I  suppose  that  was  on  account  of  its 
durability,"  said  her  aunt. 


CO1STQTJEST   AND   SACRIFICE.  271 

"Well,  I  never  thought  much  about  funeral 
customs  until  the  other  day,  when  Mr.  Nelson 
began  talking  of  them.  I  took  it  for  granted 
nearly  everybody  was  buried  in  the  same  general 
way,  except  in  those  countries  where  they  burn  the 
dead." 

"But  you  certainly  remember,  Helen,"  said 
Nora,  "  when  we  heard  Dr.  Scudder  tell  of  the 
Togas,  who  used  to  kill  six  buffaloes  every  time  a 
chief  died,  and  just  as  many  as  the  family  could 
afford,  for  an  ordinary  person's  funeral?  Because 
they  thought  buffaloes'  blood  was  necessary  for 
them  in  the  next  world." 

"Yes,  I  remember  it  now,  but  I  had  not 
thought  of  it  since." 

"  But  what  did  Mr.  Nelson  say,  Helen  ?"  asked 
Barbara,  who  was  always  eager  to  hear  facts  and 
incidents. 

"  Why,  he  was  telling  me  about  the  Chinese  in 
California.  You  know  he  spent  two  years  there. 
He  says  that  when  a  rich  Chinaman  dies,  the 
priest  always  goes  to  the  house,  dressed  in  his 
robes,  kneels  down  on  the  pavement  and  prays  for 
his  departed  soul ;  and  all  the  time  he  is  praying, 
he  burns  what  they  call  josh  sticks, — little  sticks 


272  HELEN    IM^VCGKREGJOR, ;    OR, 

about  a  foot  long  made  of  rosin,  tar,  and  other 
combustible  substances." 

"  Does  he  really  kneel  right  out  on  the  pave 
ment  ?"  asked  Nora. 

"Yes,  on  the  pavement;  but  only  when  they 
have  money  to  pay  for  such  a  display.  Then  they 
have  a  grand  feast  at  the  house,  and  at  the  grave 
too;  everybody  carries  something  along  to  eat. 
But  I  think  the  most  curious  part  of  it  is,  that 
after  the  person  has  been  buried  a  while  they  take 
up  his  bones  and  send  them  in  a  box  to  China. 
Every  Chinaman's  bones  are  sent  back  to  his  own 
country.  There  they  keep  them  a  while  and  then 
rebury  them." 

"Well  I  never  heard  anything  so  strange  as 
that,"  said  Nora. 

"Not  so  very  strange,  my  child,"  said  Mrs. 
Neville;  "they  are  sent  out  to  this  country  by 
companies  in  China,  and  they  must  be  accounted 
for ;  I  suppose  that  is  one  reason  why  their  bodies 
are  required.  But  I  can  tell  you  something 
stranger  than  that.  There  is  a  nation  in  Asia,  I 
cannot  remember  the  name  now,  that  keep  small 
dogs  to  eat  up  their  dead ;  and  these  dogs  are  held 
very  sacred." 


CONQUEST    A.NTD    SACRIFICE.  273 

"  Oh,  dear !"  said  Barbara,  with  a  sigh  of  relief, 
"  how  glad  I  am  that  I  live  in  a  country  where 
they  bury  people  rightly." 

"Better  be  thankful,  my  dear  girl,  that  you 
live  in  a  country  where  the  religion  of  Jesus 
teaches  us  how  to  live,  so  that  we  may  have  part 
in  the  first  resurrection.  What  becomes  of  the 
body  after  death,  matters  little." 

"Mother,"  said  Barbara,  "I  was  wondering 
some  time  ago,  if,  after  the  resurrection  of  Laza 
rus,  people  did  not  ask  him  a  great  many  ques 
tions  about  what  he  saw  when  he  was  dead.  Do 
you  not  think  they  must  have  done  so  ?" 

"  I  think  it  is  very  probable  they  did,  for 
human  nature  was  the  same  then  as  it  is  now; 
but  I  very  much  doubt  if  he  told  them,  even  if  he 
had  the  power,  as  we  have  no  record  of  it." 

"  How  I  should  like  to  have  seen  him,"  said 
Helen.  "  Somehow,  I  think  he  must  have  been 
different  from  others,  after  coming  to  life  again." 

"Why,  aunt  Stella  and  I  were  talking  about 
that  very  thing  last  week,"  said  Nora,  "  and  auntie 
repeated  to  me  some  verses  she  had  written  on 
it." 

"  Not  on  his  resurrection  exactly,  my  dear,  but 


274  HELEN    lYTACGHtEOOR.;    OR, 


on  the  Jewish  tradition,  which  says,  that  Lazarus 
was  never  known  to  smile  afterwards;  that  neither 
anger  nor  sorrow  nor  in  fact  any  human  passion 
ever  afterwards  ruffled  his  brow;  but  that  he 
lived  perfectly  calm  and  serene  always." 

"  Do  repeat  the  verses  for  us,  aunt  Stella,"  said 
Helen  eagerly. 

"  I  will  ;  but  I  must  tell  you,  they  are  written 
in  imitation  of  Mrs.  Hemans's  poem  on  the  death 
of  the  Prince  of  Wales." 

"HE  NEVER  SMILED  AGAIN." 

"  Come  forth  !"    A  calm  voice  broke  the  air, 

As  sweet  as  music  deep, 
As  thrilling  as  the  wind-kissed  harp 

The  wand'ring  breezes  sweep. 
It  pierced  the  marble  ear  of  Death, 

And  broke  his  icy  chain  : 
Lazarus  came  forth  to  life  and  love,  — 

But  never  smiled  again. 

"  Come  forth  !"    The  dread  of  human  hearts 

Bowed  to  a  mightier  One  ; 
Death  yielded  up  his  conquered  crown 

To  God's  eternal  Son. 
Lazarus  awoke  on  earth  once  more, 

To  all  earth's  joy  and  pain  ; 
But  the  voice  of  God  had  waked  him,  — 

"  He  never  smiled  again." 


CONQUEST   -A.NT>    SACRIFICE.  275 

He  met  dear  friends,  the  loved  of  years, 

In  halls  of  festive  mirth; 
Fame's  wreath,unsought  for,pressed  his  brow; 

He  turned  from  dreams  of  earth. 
His  eye  had  gazed  on  unknown  shores, 

His  heart  had  felt  death's  chain, 
His  lips  had  said  farewell  to  life,— 

"  He  never  smiled  again." 

He  came  from  realms  where  spirits  meet — 

Homes  of  the  mighty  dead; 
He  kept  within  his  heart  the  charm 

Immortal  joy  had  shed. 
His  soul  still  dwelt  in  that  far  land, 

Still  heard  its  music's  strain  ; 
What  were  earth's  deepest  joys  to  him  ? — 

"  He  never  smiled  again." 

Calm  as  the  calmest  mountain  lake 

In  some  sequestered  spot  ; 
Pure  as  the  stream  in  eastern  lake, 

Which  meets  but  mingles  not; 
Cold  as  the  flash  of  jewels  bright; 

Sad  as  remembered  strain; 
He  knew  earth's  greatest  mystery, — 

"He  never  smiled  again." 

"I  should  like  to  have  been  Lazarus,"  said 
Barbara,  "  for  he  need  never  have  been  afraid  to 
die." 

"  And  surely  we  need  none  of  us  be  afraid  to 


276  HELEHST   MA-CGKREGOR,;    OR, 

die,  if  we,  like  Lazarus,  have  the  Saviour  for  our 
friend,"  said  Mrs.  Neville. 

"'Jesus  can  make  the  dying  bed 

Feel  soft  as  downy  pillows  are.' "   \/ 

"I  am  sure,"  said  Helen,  "I  would  like  to 
write  poetry  as  well  as  aunt  Stella  does.  But  then 
we  cannot  have  everything  we  wish." 

"  And  what  is  it  Helen  wishes  for  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Nelson,  coming  up  in  time  to  hear  the  last  sen 
tence. 

"Something  that  even  you  cannot  give  me," 
said  Helen  laughing, — "a  talent  for  writing 
poetry." 

"  Yes,  that  passes  my  powers  of  giving,"  said 
he,  laying  his  hand  caressingly  on  Helen's  head. 
"Now  if  you  will  allow  a  drone  in  this  busy 
hive,"  he  continued,  "  I  will  take  a  seat." 

"Well,  as  you  have  sat  down  by  me,"  said 
Nora,  "I  give  you  fair  warning,  you  will  have  to 
thread  all  my  needles;  and  I  use  a  great  many,  as 
I  am  working  this  slipper  in  so  many  colors." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  try  it  a  while,  and  if  I  get 
tired,  I  suppose  I  shall  be  permitted  to  change  my 
seat !  Did  Helen  give  you  the  promised  scolding 
that  she  threatened  ?" 


CONQUEST   A.NT>   SACRIFICE.  277 

"Not  yet,"  said  Nora  laughing,  "for  I  have 
Eve's  propensity  of  throwing  the  blame  on  some 
one  else." 

"  True  enough,"  said  Helen,  "  that  just  makes 
me  think,  aunt  Stella,  you  have  not  made  your 
excuses  yet." 

"Well  then,"  said  aunt  Stella,  "suppose  I  be 
gin  now.  I  went  round  to  see  your  friend  Lucy 
Dean.  You  know  she  has  been  trying  to  get  a 
place  for  Laura,  as  she  is  quite  a  large  girl  now ; 
and  I  thought  if  Lucy  was  willing,  I  would  take 
her  home  with  me." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad,"  said  Helen ;  "  I  wanted 
her  to  get  a  kind  home,  she  is  such  a  sensitive 
child.  What  did  Lucy  say  ?" 

"  She  was  very  glad,  although  she  said  it  would 
be  hard  to  part  with  Laura;  so  I  promised  I 
would  bring  her  with  me  every  time  I  came,  if  it 
was  possible.  But  I  must  confess  I  took  a  greater 
fancy  to  Susie,  she  seemed  so  quick." 

"Yes,"  said  Nora,  "Susie  is  very  nice;  I  do 
hope  that  she  too  will  get  some  place  where  the 
people  will  take  an  interest  in  her." 

"And  give  her  an  opportunity  to  improve," 
said  Helen. 

24 


278  HELEN   M-A-CGKREGOR;    OR, 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  the 
sound  of  the  tea-bell,  and  the  rising  of  Mr.  Nel 
son  inviting  the  party  to  the  house. 

"I  am  sorry  Mary  Rellim  is  not  here,"  said 
Helen,  as  they  were  leaving  the  dell. 

"And  to  think,  she  is  a  hundred  miles  away, 
and  does  not  know  we  are  wishing  for  her,"  said 
Nora.  "  How  does  she  like  her  school  ?" 

"  Very  much,"  answered  Helen ;  "  I  got  a  let 
ter  from  her  only  yesterday;  I  will  show  it  to  you 
after  supper.  She  complains  a  little  of  having  to 
study  too  hard.  I  do  like  Mary  very  much ;  she 
is  so  different  from  what  she  used  to  be." 

"Helen,"  said  Mr.  Nelson  in  a  low  tone,  as 
they  were  going  up  the  steps  together,  "  wouldn't 
you  like  to  take  Susie?  If  you  would,  take  her, 
my  child,  by  all  means.  I  have  no  objection." 

Helen  gave  him  a  joyous  glance,  and  said  in  a 
subdued  tone,  "Thank  you,  father." 

Mr.  Nelson  was  more  than  repaid  by  hearing 
Helen's  girlish  voice  call  him  father ;  which  it  so 
seldom  did,  that  the  charm  never  wore  off"  for  the 
solitary  man.  He  was  certainly  much  changed. 
Mrs.  Neville  had  noticed  it.  He  was  more  genial, 
and  the  sneer  of  unbelief  which  usually  deformed 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  279 

his  mouth,  was  now  much  rarer.  Helen  was 
throwing  some  of  her  own  generous  faith  into  the 
worldly  life  of  her  protector. 

The  evening  was  spent  in  pleasant  amusement. 
Nora  and  Barbara  played  duets  on  the  piano ; 
and  Helen  played  on  the  harp,  and  sang  many 
pieces,  both  new  and  old,  for  she  now  had  a  sing 
ing  master,  and  seldom  played  or  sang  the  wild 
songs  of  her  mountain  home,  unless  on  stormy 
evenings  at  Mr.  Nelson's  request,  when  he  said 
they  chimed  with  his  feelings.  And  often  when 
the  wild  sweet  notes  were  dying  away,  Helen 
would  take  her  little  Bible,  and  sitting  down  by 
his  side  would  almost  whisper, 

"  Father  dear,  you  are  sad  to-night ;  I  will  read 
you  some  consolation  from  the  blessed  Book." 

And  what  would  be  the  thoughts  of  that  worldly 
heart,  as  the  Saviour's  divine  invitations  smote  the 
ear  ?  Did  it  reply,  with  Agrippa,  "  Almost  thou 
persuadest  me  to  be  a  Christian?" — or,  like  the 
rich  man  in  the  parable,  "Soul,  thou  hast  much 
goods  laid  up  for  many  years ;  take  thine  ease  ?" 
Were  the  memories  of  childhood  busy  ?  Did  the 
sunlight  of  other  days  picture  to  his  recalling  vision 
his  baby  form,  as  it  knelt  and  lisped  its  first 


280  HELEN   IkLA-CGHtEOOR. 

prayer?  Did  he  hear  his  mother's  voice  urging 
him  to  come  to  Jesus  ?  Helen  never  knew.  He 
did  not  object  to  her  reading,  but  he  made  no 
comment  on  itj  and  Helen,  softly  closing  the 
Book,  would  kiss  his  brow,  and  retire  to  her  own 
room  to  pray  earnestly  that  God's  Holy  Spirit 
would  touch  that  stony  heart,  and  send  it  a  weep 
ing  supplicant  to  the  foot  of  the  cross. 


XX. 

A1T 


"Whatever  passes  as  a  cloud  between 
The  eye  of  faith  and  things  unseen, 
Causing  that  bright  world  to  disappear, 
Or  seem  less  lovely  or  its  hopes  less  dear,  — 
This  is  our  world,  our  idol,  though  it  wear 
Affection's  impress,  or  devotion's  air." 

"  TT  is  all  right,  Lucy,  you  need  not  worry  about 
J-  that,"  said  Helen,  as  they  were  parting  at  the 
gate  of  the  avenue  ;  for  Lucy  had  walked  home 
with  Helen  after  school.  "  Mr.  Nelson  told  me  I 
was  to  do  just  as  I  pleased  about  everything,  and 
you  need  never  speak  about  rent.  Anyhow,  the 
two  years  will  not  be  up  until  October,  and 
this  is  only  July.  Won't  you  come  in,  and  see 
Susie?" 

"  No,  not  this  afternoon  ;  Aleck  wanted  me  to 
hurry  back,  as  he  wishes  to  go  and  see  the  gentle 
man  Mr.  Nelson  spoke  to,  about  that  place  in  his 
store.  I  am  so  much  obliged  to  you,  Helen." 

24  *  281 


282  HELEN   JVLA-CGHtEQOR;    OR, 

"Now  hush,  Lucy;  you  know  I  will  not  allow 
that.  Good-bye  until  to-morrow." 

"Good-bye,"  said  Lucy,  turning  away  and 
giving  a  little  sigh  of  regret,  as  she  looked  back  at 
Helen's  white  dress  disappearing  among  the  dark 
trees.  "She  is  always  happy  and  merry,"  she 
thought,  "  and  I  am  always  desponding ;  after  all, 
she  too  would  perhaps  lose  her  gay  spirits  in  a 
humble  cottage." 

While  Lucy  walked  slowly  homewards  Helen 
ran  lightly  towards  the  library,  as  she  always  did 
after  even  a  short  absence,  to  tell  Mr.  Nelson  of 
her  return,  and  what  she  had  been  doing.  Her 
hand  was  on  the  door,  when  the  waiter  stepped 
up. 

"  Miss  Helen,  there  is  a  gentleman  in  the  parlor 
who  wishes  to  see  you." 

"  A  gentleman  wishes  to  see  me  ?"  said  Helen 
looking  surprised.  "Are  you  sure  he  asked  for 
me,  Thomas?" 

"  Yes,  Miss,  sure.  He  asked  if  Miss  MacGregor 
was  in." 

Helen  went  into  the  library  to  ask  Mr.  Nelson 
if  he  knew  who  it  was,  but  Mr.  Nelson  was  not 
there  as  usual ;  so  thinking  he  might  be  in  the  parlor, 


CONQUEST    ^NX>    SACRIFICE.  283 


she  threw  aside  her  hat  and  went  in.  Mr.  Nelson 
was  not  there  ;  but  a  tall  gentleman  rose  from  the 
sofa,  and  looked  at  Helen  in  some  surprise.  But 
the  look  only  lasted  an  instant,  for  Helen  bounded 
forward  and  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  ex 
claiming,  "  Malcom  !  My  brother,  my  brother  !" 
Malcom  returned  the  caress  with  unusual 
warmth.  Helen  could  scarcely  believe  it  possible 
that  it  was  he.  She  looked  at  him  again  and 
again,  and  saw  the  same  Malcom  as  of  old.  But 
to  Malcom,  Helen  was  much  changed.  He  had 
forgotten  the  lapse  of  years,  and  had  always 
thought  of  her  as  still  a  child  ;  but  the  lady-like, 
refined  young  maiden  before  him  bore  little  resem 
blance  to  the  half  wild  girl  of  their  native  moun 
tains.  Helen's  first  inquiry  was  after  her  father. 
He  was  dead.  The  shock  almost  stopped  her 
heart's  beating  a  moment,  it  was  so  unexpected. 
She  shed  some  tears  for  the  father  she  had  scarcely 
known  ;  but  years  and  separation  had  lessened  a 
love  never  deep,  and  Helen  wept  almost  as  she 
would  have  done  for  a  stranger.  And  Donald 
MacGregor,  sleeping  far  off  in  his  native  High 
lands,  was  spared  the  bitter  pang  of  knowing  that 
the  daughter  of  whom  he  was  so  proud,  and  whom 


284  HELEN"   MACGHtEGHDR,;   OR, 

he  really  loved,  had  formed  dearer  and  happier 
ties,  in  which  the  memory  of  him  and  his  careless 
indifference  had  alike  perished. 

"  And  old  Margie,"  said  Helen,  a  smile  chasing 
away  the  tears,  "  does  she  still  crone  over  the  peat 
fire  and  visit  the  haunted  dell  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  what  her  peculiar  habits  are ; 
I  know  she  still  lives  hi  the  old  place,  and  is  more 
crabbed  and  cross  than  ever." 

"  Oh,  how  can  you  say  so,  Malcom,"  said  Helen 
reprovingly,  "  you  know  how  kind  she  used  to  be." 

"  To  you,  yes ;  but  my  memory  fails  to  recall 
any  waste  of  kindness  bestowed  on  me.  However, 
let  that  pass.  I  ask  no  favors  of  any  one ;  I  can 
take  care  of  myself,"  he  replied  with  some  return 
of  his  old  surly  manner. 

Helen  thought  best  not  to  argue  the  point,  but 
she  saw  with  sorrow  that  Malcom  was  still  the 
same  in  disposition  as  when  in  childish  fun  she 
had  nick-named  him  "  surly  Malcom." 

"And  Dugald,  how  is  he?" 

"  Dugald  who  ?"  asked  her  brother. 

"  Oh,  Malcom,  you  certainly  remember  Dugald 
Stuart,  the  blind  harper." 

"I  know  nothing  about  him.     I  have  some- 


CONQUEST   AND    SACRIFICE.  285 

thing  better  to  do  than  to  hunt  up  musical  beg 
gars,"  answered  Malcom  haughtily. 

Helen  gave  a  little  sigh  of  disappointment ;  it 
would  have  been  so  nice  to  have  heard  from  her 
old  friend.  She  wondered  if  he  were  still  alive, 
and  whether  he  ever  thought  of  his  "mountain 
flower." 

Helen  then  inquired  into  the  mystery  of  the 
unanswered  letters;  it  was  soon  explained.  Shortly 
after  Helen's  departure  her  father  had  been  seized 
with  a  severe  illness.  He  would  not  consent  to 
having  a  physician ;  old  Margaret's  simple  arts 
were  unavailing,  and  Donald  MacGregor  died,  as 
he  had  lived,  hugging  his  haughty  independence, 
and  carrying  his  proud,  solitary  spirit  to  the  grave. 
Helen  gave  a  slight  shudder,  as  she  thought  that 
he  had  gone  into  the  presence  of  that  God  who 
out  of  Christ  is  a  consuming  fire.  Immediately 
after  his  father's  death,  Malcom  went  to  Edin 
burgh,  where  he  had  remained  until  a  couple  of 
months  before,  when  he  made  up  his  mind  to  come 
to  America. 

"But  how  did  you  find  me?"  asked  Helen. 
"  Did  you  get  any  of  my  letters  ?" 

"  Not  until  just  before  starting.     I  went  to  the 


286  HELEN"   IMACGHtEGOR;    OR, 

mountains  to  get  some  things  I  had  left  there, 
when  Margaret  gave  me  the  letters  which  she  had 
been  hoarding  up  as  a  great  treasure." 

"  And  did  you  read  them  to  her  ?" 

"  No,"  was  the  short  reply. 

"Poor  Margaret,"  said  Helen,  "I  know  she 
would  like  to  have  heard  them.  You  told  her 
though  that  I  was  well  and  happy,  did  you  not, 
Malcom?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  gave  her  ample  satisfaction,"  he 
said  with  a  slight  sneer. 

"Dear  old  Margie,"  said  Helen,  with  a  soft 
smile  on  her  lip,  "  she  used  to  say  I  would  some 
day  come  back  to  her  a  grand  lady;  but  I  do 
not  think  I  will  ever  see  her  again." 

"  Pity  she  did  not  know  you  think  so  much  of 
her,"  said  her  brother  in  a  scornful  tone. 

A  quick  reply  rose  to  Helen's  lip,  but  she  re 
pressed  it  and  asked  how  he  had  found  her. 

"  I  inquired  at  Mrs.  Neville's,  and  they  directed 
me  here,"  he  answered,  inwardly  wondering  what 
had  become  of  Helen's  quick  temper,  which  he 
had  always  had  the  unfortunate  power  of  rousing 
by  his  sneering  answers.  But  these  now  seemed 
lost  on  the  self-possessed  young  girl  before  him. 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE  287 

Malcom  glanced  round  the  room  with  secret  envy 
at  Helen's  better  lot.  He  had  obtained  an  ordi 
nary  situation  in  New  York,  and  had  come  to 
Brookfield  with  the  intention  of  taking  Helen 
from  the  Nevilles,  where,  he  instinctively  felt, 
from  reading  the  letters,  they  could  not  afford  to 
keep  her  without  some  loss.  He  intended  to  keep 
house  in  New  York,  and  he  wanted  Helen  for  a 
housekeeper.  She  had  left  the  Nevilles,  and 
when  he  found  how  she  was  situated,  his  better 
nature  whispered  to  him  to  let  her  remain.  But 
Malcom's  better  nature  seldom  gamed  the  day. 
Selfishness  was  his  ruling  trait;  and  no  kind, 
parental  discipline  had  in  childhood  checked  the 
poisonous  growth.  It  would  add  much  to  his 
comfort  to  have  Helen's  useful  hands  to  tend  to 
his  house  and  mend  his  clothes.  And  it  gratified 
Malcom's  pride,  to  think  that  Helen's  refinement 
and  accomplishments  would  add  to  his  humble  home 
a  lustre  which  would  reflect  on  himself.  He  told  her 
of  his  situation  and  prospects,  and  Helen  listened  with 
interest.  But  when  he  spoke  of  wishing  to  take  a 
small  house,  so  as  to  have  a  home  of  his  own,  a 
thrill  of  disappointment  ran  through  her  heart  as 
she  thought,  perhaps  it  might  be  her  duty  to  go 


288  HELEN   MACGHREGOR,;    OR,, 

with  him  and  make  it  indeed  a  home.  She  made 
up  her  mind  to  think  over  it ;  but  she  was  entirely 
unprepared  for  the  selfishness  which  could  ask  it 
of  her,  almost  demand  it  as  a  right.  With  a  vio 
lent  effort,  she  strove  to  hide  the  keen  pang  of 
pain  which  the  question  gave  her,  as  she  answered 
she  would  think  of  it.  Think  of  it  ?  She  could 
not  banish  the  thought.  It  glided  along,  like  an 
undercurrent,  through  everything  she  said  or 
listened  to,  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

Mr.  Nelson  came  in  and  invited  Malcom  to 
make  his  home  there,  while  in  Brookfield.  This 
he  refused,  with  a  hauteur  that  wounded  Helen ; 
but  he  stayed  to  tea,  and  Helen  had  the  convic 
tion  forced  upon  her,  that  Mr.  Nelson  and  his 
guest  disliked  each  other  heartily.  She  played 
and  sang,  and  laughed  gaily,  to  hide  the  cloud 
from  Mr.  Nelson's  searching  but  kindly  eye.  But 
underneath  all,  the  struggling  questions  would 
force  themselves  up,  "Must  I  go?  Must  I  in 
deed  go  and  live  with  one  so  uncongenial  ?  Must 
I  leave  this  home  of  ease  and  refinement,  my 
dearest  studies,  and  my  kindest  friends,  for  one 
who  cares  little  for  me  ?  For  one  who  lacks  the 
polish  of  the  world,  or  the  gentleness  of  goodness  ? 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  289 

Is  it  thy  will,  O  my  Father  ?"  Such  were  the 
pleading,  half  despairing  questions,  that  rose  con 
tinually  from  that  young  heart.  She  longed  to  be 
alone.  Alone,  to  pray  for  strength  and  guidance. 

Malcom  left  early,  and  Helen  at  once  took  her 
Bible  to  read,  although  not  yet  the  usual  hour. 
Mr.  Nelson  made  no  remark;  he  heard  in  the 
tremulous  tones  of  the  reader  that  her  heart  was 
stirred  to  its  very  depths.  And  when  she  bade 
him  good-night,  he  clasped  her  in  a  fond  embrace ; 
an  embrace  that  seemed,  all  unconscious  as  he  was, 
to  foreshadow  by  its  tenderness  a  coming  sorrow. 
Perhaps  too,  a  little  jealousy  lurked  in  that  fond 
good-night.  Hitherto  none  had  shared  an  equal 
claim  with  Mr.  Nelson  upon  Helen's  lot  and  pros 
pects  in  life,  and  he  was  fast  making  an  idol  of 
her.  Now  another,  and  one  claiming  the  nearer 
name  of  brother  had  come  to  take,  perhaps,  the 
first  place  in  Helen's  heart. 

I  sometimes  wonder,  if  there  is  any  sin  human 
beings  are  so  apt  to  fall  into  as  idolatry.  It  is  so 
subtle,  so  much  less  easily  recognized  than  other 
sins.  It  is  so  easy  to  give  ambition,  or  wealth,  or 
some  frail  human  creature  the  first  place  in  our 
hearts,  and  God  the  second.  Do' we  not  uncon- 

25  T 


290  HELEN" 

sciously  find  ourselves  asking  first  whether  it  will 
please  another;  and  afterward,  whether  it  will 
please  the  Saviour  ?  But,  oh,  tempted,  erring  one, 
bend  the  knee  in  reverent  thanksgiving,  that  God 
is  all  merciful.  The  blow  may  be  sharp  and 
keen,  but  the  soul  turns  from  its  shattered  idol,  to 
the  worship  of  the  true  God. 


XXI. 
THE  DECISION: 

"  By  the  thorn  road,  and  none  other, 

Is  the  mount  of  vision  won  ; 
Tread  it  without  shrinking,  brother ! 
Jesus  trod  it, — press  thou  on  !" 

"TF  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny 
-L  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross  daily,  and  fol 
low  me."  Such  were  the  words  that  fell  from  the 
lips  of  Him  who  knew  the  end  from  the  begin 
ning, — One  who  could  trace  to  its  most  hidden 
depths  the  deepest  sorrow  of  human  passion.  But 
his  eye  was  omniscient,  and  far  beyond  the  weary 
ing,  heavy  cross  of  to-day,  he  saw  the  starry  crown 
of  the  everlasting  years  that  should  some  time 
press  the  brows  of  his  chosen.  Yes,  the  Son  of 
God,  who  could  thus  command  his  beloved  ones 
to  take  up  their  cross,  knew  that  through  his 
strength  they  should  step  forth  into  immortality 

"  more  than  conquerors." 

291 


292  HELE1ST    MACGHEtEGOR ;    OR, 

"For  a  few  brief  hours  the  cross, 
For  untold  years  the  crown." 

We  all  have  been  brought  face  to  face  with  the 
great  struggle  between  duty  and  inclination,  and 
poor  human  nature  shrinks  from  the  contest. 
"Who  has  not  heard  the  syren  whisper,  enjoy  the 
present,  let  the  future  take  care  of  itself?  "Who 
has  not  felt  like  shutting  his  ears  to  the  disagree 
able  calls  of  duty,  and  yielding  with  reckless  in 
difference  to  the  intoxicating  pleasure  of  the  mo 
ment  ?  Some  such  idea  of  stifling  conscience  pos 
sessed  Helen  as  she  entered  her  room  that  evening, 
and  locking  her  door  threw  herself  on  the  bed  to 
let  thought,  like  a  "  lava  tide,"  sweep  over  her. 
She  was  young,  full  of  refined  taste  and  feeling ; 
she  loved  her  guardian ;  she  loved  her  companions ; 
she  liked  her  home  of  ease  and  pleasure;  and  bit 
ter  indeed  did  it  seem  to  have  to  leave  them. 
She  would  not;  no,  she  would  not;  she  said  to 
herself  many  times.  It  was  very  selfish  in  Mai- 
corn  to  ask  it.  But  this  mood  did  not  last.  Her 
better  nature  whispered,  "  "Will  you  let  Christ  do 
everything  for  you,  while  you  do  nothing  for  him? 
Will  you  letf  your  brother  go  on  in  his  sinful 
career,  and  never  put  forth  an  effort  to  win  his 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  293 

soul  to  your  Saviour  ?     Perhaps  on  your  going  or 
staying  may  depend  his  eternal  welfare." 

Helen  was  startled  at  the  thought,  and  yet  it 
was  all  too  true.  Malcom  knew  little  about  re 
ligion,  and  cared  less.  Thrown  among  the  many 
temptations  of  New  York,  with  no  shield  but  his 
own  weak  nature,  he  must  sink  lower  and  lower. 
Then  too,  he  would  have  to  board,  and  perhaps  be 
brought  daily  in  contact  with  those  more  wicked 
than  himself.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  she  kept 
house  for  him,  if  she  strove  by  every  means  in  her 
power  to  make  home  cheerful,  might  he  not  learn 
to  love  her,  and  to  like  his  humble  home  ?  And 
then  what  good,  through  God's  blessing,  her  influ 
ence  might  do  him?  She  might  gradually  win 
him  to  listen  to  the  Bible,  and  to  attend  church 
with  her.  Then  too,  he  was  her  brother,  even  if 
she  had  never  been  taught  to  care  for  him,  or  had 
never  received  his  love ;  still,  he  was  her  brother, 
the  blood  of  the  same  ancestors  flowed  in  their 
veins.  The  picture  grew  almost  pleasant.  But 
the  next  instant  it  was  blotted  from  the  canvas  by 
the  sudden  thought  of  Malcom  as  he'  really  was, 
surly  and  ill-tempered ;  of  hours  of  loneliness  and 
poverty ;  of  Nora  and  Barbara ;  of  Mr.  Nelson's 

25  * 


294  HELEN   MACGKREQ-OR;    OR,, 

indulgence,  and  all  the  light  and  love  and  joy  she 
must  forsake ;  and  throwing  herself  on  her  knees, 
she  prayed  with  passionate  earnestness  for  grace 
and  guidance.  But  no  light  seemed  to  dawn. 
Blinded  by  her  own  wild  wishes  she  could  not  see 
her  Saviour ;  and  the  clock  had  struck  the  mid 
night  hour  before  she  rose  from  that  sorrowful 
vigil.  But  peace  was  written  on  her  brow ;  and 
if  tears  still  lingered  on  her  dark  eye-lashes,  and 
dropped  on  her  trembling  lips,  she  yet  looked 
forward  into  the  future  with  a  steady  eye.  The 
struggle  had  been  keen  and  bitter,  but  it  was 
over;  she  had  been  given  strength  to  do  her  duty; 
and  she  saw,  as  if  with  a  gifted  vision,  that  had 
she  remained  where  she  was,  she  might  yet  have 
been  led  astray  by  the  fond  indulgence  which 
would  not  admit  that  she  had  any  faults,  or  the 
boundless  wealth  entirely  at  her  disposal.  And 
Helen  sank  to  sleep  saying,  "  Jesus  knows  what  is 
best." 

She  had  been  tossed  from  the  green  shores  and 
sweet  air  of  a  sunny  land  into  rough  waters.  She 
had  tried  to  struggle  back,  but  almost  sinking  she 
had  caught  the  hand  stretched  out  to  save.  It 
bore  her  in  an  opposite  direction,  but  she  yielded. 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  295 

It  landed  her  far  from  the  sun-lit  isle,  on  a  bleak 
and  desolate  shore.  She  missed  the  loved  faces 
of  her  companions,  but  looking  up  she  saw  the 
Saviour.  He  was  with  her  still.  He  would 
never  forsake;  and  even  the  most  desolate  spot 
became  sweet,  when  lighted  by  his  presence. 

Days  passed  away.  Malcom  had  left  Brook- 
field  after  obtaining  Helen's  promise,  and  telling 
her  he  would  come  on  for  her  in  a  few  weeks,  as 
soon  as  he  had  procured  a  house  and  furnished  it. 
Helen  still  hesitated  to  tell  Mr.  Nelson  her  deci 
sion.  She  felt  like  putting  off  the  dreaded  day  as 
long  as  possible.  But  she  could  not  well  hide 
from  him  that  something  was  wrong.  He 
missed  her  gay  song  and  light  laugh,  and  sent  her 
off  one  afternoon  to  take  tea  at  the  cottage,  think 
ing  thus  to  cheer  her  up.  Here  Helen  told  her 
kind  friends  of  her  intended  departure.  Nora  and 
Barbara  loudly  protested  against  it;  and  Nora, 
bursting  into  tears,  clung  to  Helen  as  though  she 
were  that  instant  going.  But  Mrs.  Neville  said 
nothing,  and  Helen  looked  at  her  almost  hoping 
she  would  make  some  objection;  but  no,  Mrs, 
Neville  thought  it  was  Helen's  duty  to  go ;  and 
she  bade  her  comfort  herself  with  the  sure  worcj 


296  HELEDST    MA-CGKEtEQ-OR ;    OR,, 

of  promise,  "  All  things  work  together  for  good,  to 
them  that  love  God."  One  thing  she  strongly 
advised,  that  Mr.  Nelson  should  be  told  at  once ; 
and  Helen  thought  she  would  tell  him  on  the  road 
home.  But  going  home,  she  concluded  she  would 
tell  him  when  she  bade  him  good  night ;  and  when 
that  moment  came,  she  was  as  reluctant  as  ever. 
But  she  knew  that  it  must  be  done;  so  summon 
ing  all  her  courage,  she  hurried  through  the  ac 
count  with  such  breathless  haste  that  Mr.  Nelson 
had  scarcely  realized  what  she  had  said,  before  she 
had  finished. 

"  Did  you  say  you  were  going  away  in  a  week 
or  two  ?"  he  asked  incredulously. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Helen,  firmly  and  sadly. 

Mr.  Nelson  said  no  more ;  he  rose  and  walked 
up  and  down  the  room  with  hasty  steps  and 
frowning  brow.  Helen  waited  a  few  minutes. 
She  longed  to  speak  some  words  of  consolation  be 
fore  leaving  him ;  but  coming  up  to  her  he  said 
abruptly, 

"Remember,  my  daughter,  I  will  never  give 
you  up." 

"  Ah,  do  not  say  so,  my  father ;  what  God  wills, 
who  shall  gainsay  ?" 


CONQUEST    A.NT3    SACRIFICE.  297 

"You  do  not  know  what  God  wills,"  he  an 
swered  impatiently ;  "  men  do  as  they  choose,  and 
as  they  like  best,  and  then  say  that  God  wills  it. 
Nonsense." 

"  Dear  father,"  said  Helen  in  a  winning  tone, 
"  is  there  no  such  thing  as  duty  ?  Does  not  our 
conscience  tell  us  when  we  do  right  and  when  we 
do  wrong  ?" 

"But  there  is  mistaken  duty,  mistaken  duty, 
Helen." 

"True,"  answered  the  girl  slowly;  "human 
nature  is  so  full  of  faults,  so  full  of  fond  feelings ; 
it  is  such  a  pleasure  to  yield  to  those  we  love,  that 
we  are  apt  to  persuade  ourselves  it  is  our  duty, 
when  it  is  only  our  inclination." 

"  "Well,  well,  then,"  said  he,  "  you  are  mistaken ; 
it  is  your  duty  to  stay  here,  and  your  inclination 
calls  you  away." 

She  shook  her  head  with  a  sad  smile. 

"  Do  you  suppose  God  would  leave  us  without 
anything  to  depend  on  but  our  weak  hearts  and 
fond  fancies  ?  He  has  said  of  the  Christian,  '  he 
shall  call  upon  me  and  I  will  answer  him :  I  will 
be  with  him  in  trouble ;  I  will  deliver  him  and 
honor  him.'  Dear  father,  I  have  taken  this 


298  HELEN"   3VEACQ-REQ-OH, ;    OR, 

question  to  Jesus  to  decide  and  I  have  received  an 
answer.     I  must  go." 

Mr.  Nelson  said  nothing;  he  sat  down  on  the 
sofa,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hand.  He  had 
been  a  lonely  man ;  an  orphan,  wealthy  and  proud ; 
and  his  cynical  disposition  had  led  him  to  shun 
his  fellow-men,  as  well  as  to  sneer  at  religion. 
Helen's  nature,  so  confidingly  free  and  full  of  love, 
had  won  its  way  into  his  icy  heart. 

"  There's  not  a  hearth,  however  rude, 

But  hath  some  little  flower 
To  brighten  up  its  solitude, 
And  scent  the  evening  hour." 

Helen  had  become  to  him  that  flower,  and  now 
to  lose  her  seemed  but  too  hard.  "It  is  only 
another  leaf  in  my  bitter  book  of  life,"  he  mur 
mured  suddenly  to  himself.  Tears  filled  Helen's 
eyes.  She  sat  down  by  him  and  laid  her  head  on 
his  shoulder. 

"  Leave  me,"  he  said  coldly. 

"Then  you  are  angry,"  she  said  sadly,  as  she 
rose  to  obey. 

"  Angry  ?  oh,  no ;  anger  is  not  the  word  to  use 
to  a  heart  stung  by  ingratitude." 


CONQUEST   AND    SACRIFICE.  299 

"Ingratitude!"  said  Helen  with  a  start,  "Am  I 
then  ungrateful  ?" 

"  Ah,  Helen,  Helen,  what  else  can  you  call  it  ? 
I  took  you,  and  made  you  my  daughter ;  all  the 
accomplishments  that  wealth  can  give,  I  am  giving 
you ;  you  might  have  asked  m^  for  anything,  and 
had  it  been  in  my  power,  it  should  have  been 
yours.  And  all  I  asked  was,  that  you  should 
lighten  my  dull  old  home  with  your  presence; 
that  you  should  look  up  to  me  and  love  me  as 
your  father.  But  all  this  has  failed  to  please  you ; 
one  whom  you  scarcely  know,  bearing  the  name 
of  brother,  arrives,  and  you  turn  from  me  with  in 
difference  to  find  a  new  home." 

"Oh,  no,  no,  not  with  indifference;  how  can 
you  say  so  ?  I  have  tried  to  hide  how  much  I 
feel  this  parting ;  but  if  you  think  me  ungrateful, 
I  will  tell  you  all.  Know  then,  that  it  is  hard 
for  me  to  go ;  God  alone  knows  how  hard.  My 
love  for  you,  my  second  father ;  my  liking  for  the 
beauty  and  refinement  around  me,  all  urge  me  to 
stay." 

"Stay  then;  stay,  Helen;  why  should  you  go? 
We  have  only  a  short  time  to  live  in  this  world ; 
let  us  enjoy  ourselves  to  the  utmost." 


300  HELEKT    M^CGmE&OR  ;    OR,, 


Never  had  Helen  before  so  much  need  of  high 
principle  and  firm  faith.  It  was  the  hour  of  her 
great  temptation.  The  voice  of  affection  was 
urging  her  to  accept  wealth  and  ease,  and  duty 
was  pointing  to  a  lonely,  unloved  brother  whom 
she  might  reclain*.  "  Why  should  I  go  ?"  she 
thought.  "  Am  I  ever  to  be  tossed  from  one  home 
to  another  ?  Let  me  stay  yet  a  few  months,  and 
then  there  will  be  time  enough  to  think  about  it." 

Mr.  Nelson  saw  she  was  hesitating,  and  he  said 
eagerly, 

"Yes,  stay,  my  child;  life  was  given  us  to 
enjoy  ourselves  in  ;  we  shall  soon  sleep  an  eternal 
sleep  ;  then  let  us  make  the  most  of  it." 

Helen  started,  shocked  at  the  idea,  and  raising 
her  head  she  said  hastily,  '. 

"  I  thank  you  for  that  reminder.  Yes,  we  shall 
soon  all  sleep  our  last  sleep  ;  but,  oh,  it  will  not 
be  eternal.  There  is  an  awaking!  There  is  a 
day  of  judgment.  Oh,  my  father,  there  is  some 
thing  more  to  live  for  than  pleasure.  There  is 
duty  to  man,  and  duty  to  God.  There  is  a  higher 
and  holier  existence  than  the  worldly  know.  There 
is  a  joy  even  in  sacrifice,  when  it  wins  the  smile 
of  our  Saviour.  Urge  me  no  more  ;  I  must  not, 


CONQUEST    A:NX>    SACRIFICE.  301 


I  cannot  stay;  and  oh,  my  father,  yield  to  the 
blessed  Jesus;  learn  to  love  him,  and  then  you 
will  forgive  your  daughter,  that  still  loving  you 
she  could  leave  you." 

As  Helen  finished  speaking  she  hastened  from 
the  parlor  to  seek  the  solitude  of  her  own  room,  — 
on  her  knees  to  ask  that  strength  which  is  never 
denied.  Those  were  bitter  days  for  her,  and  she 
needed  deep  draughts  from  the  fountain  of  living 
water.  She  had  learned  to  love  her  adopted  father 
with  all  the  affectionate  trust  of  her  nature  ;  and 
she  had  thought  he  would  look  upon  her  duty  as 
she  did.  Upright  and  generous  in  his  actions, 
Helen  expected  his  aid.  Ah,  she  was  finding  out 
that  where  feeling  and  desire  are  opposed  to  duty, 
religion  alone  can  give  the  strength  to  conquer  for 
the  right.  Mr.  Nelson  was  moral  and  just;  wrhat 
the  world  too  often  calls  a  good  man  ;  but  the  one 
great  foundation  of  Christ  Jesus,  he  had  never 
built  on  ;  and  now  in  the  testing  hour,  when  the 
question  of  right  and  wrong  came  before  him,  he 
failed  in  high  principle.  The  very  foundation  of 
his  character  was  wrong;  and  all  the  sandy 
ground  of  his  morality  and  pride  was  washed 
away  before  the  tide  of  everlasting  truth.  Sorrow- 

26 


802  HELEN   M^CGKREOOR;   OR, 

fully  Helen  thought  of  all  this,  and  she  did  all  she 
could  for  him,  then  she  prayed.  And  yet,  even 
hi  her  sorrow,  the  thought  came  into  her  mind 
that  it  was  best  for  her  that  it  had  happened  as  it 
had.  She  was  beginning  to  trust  Mr.  Nelson  too 
much,  to  consider  him  better  than  he  was;  and 
his  being  the  stronger  mind,  Helen  shuddered  to 
think  that  he  at  last  might  have  led  her  astray 
from  the  narrow  path,  instead  of  her  leading  him 
to  the  Saviour,  as  she  had  fondly  hoped  to  do. 
She  felt  that  she  had  been  awakened  by  God,  in 
his  merciful  providence,  on  the  brink  of  a  preci 
pice  ;  and  although  the  disappointment  was  bitter, 
she  was  compelled  to  confess  that  no  human 
character  can  be  depended  on,  unless  strengthened 
and  upheld  by  divine  grace. 

The  next  three  weeks  were  so  gloomy  that 
Helen  almost  rejoiced  to  see  Malcom.  Mr.  Nel 
son  had  treated  her  kindly  and  would  never  listen 
to  another  word  on  the  painful  subject ;  but  Helen 
felt  instinctively,  that  something  was  wanting. 
Mr.  Nelson  had  returned  to  his  cold  and  reserved 
manners. 

Very  sad  indeed,  was  Helen's  parting  with  her 
friends  at  the  cottage.  She  went  all  over  the 


CONQUEST    ANT)    SACRIFICE.  303 

house,  to  her  own  little  room,  which  still  bore  her 
name ;  to  the  study,  the  pleasant  parlor,  and  the 
dear  old  kitchen,  and  lovely  garden.  Everything 
was  remembered  with  keen  regret.  Mrs.  Neville, 
Barbara  and  Nora,  went  with  her  to  the  railroad 
depot ;  and  Lucy  and  her  little  ones  came  in  for  a 
share  of  tears  and  caresses. 

"Never  mind,  Lucy,"  said  Helen,  "God  is  the 
'  Father  of  the  fatherless.'  I  promised  you  things 
the  other  day  which  I  cannot  now  give.  How 
little  we  can  read  the  future." 

It  was  almost  time  to  start,  and  Helen  entered 
the  study  with  a  slow  step;  but  Mr.  Nelson  did 
not  hear  her.  He  was  sitting  with  his  back  to  the 
door  and  his  head  in  his  hand.  Helen  stood  close 
beside  him,  and  stooping  down  she  laid  her  little 
Bible  on  his  lap. 

"Dear  fathet,"  said  she,  "read  it  for  my  sake, 
when  I  am  gone." 

He  glanced  up  hastily,  and  Helen  saw  a  tear 
drop  on  the  tiny  book.  He  folded  her  tenderly 
in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  cheek. 

"You  promise,  father?"  she  whispered,  in  a 
voice  broken  by  sobs. 

"  I  promise,"  he  replied  ;  and  in  a  few  minutes 


304  HELEN 

Helen  was  seated  in  the  carriage  and  rolling  to 
wards  the  depot.  Oakdale  with  all  its  attractions 
was  fading  in  the  distance.  Helen  leaned  forward 
to  catch  a  last  glimpse  of  the  white  house  and 
green  trees  and  of  little  Brookfield  where  she  had 
spent  so  many  happy  hours.  And  the  words  of 
the  text  came  with  strengthening  power,  "  He  that 
loveth  father  or  mother  more  than  me  is  not  wor 
thy  of  me." 


XXII. 

DOMESTIC 

"  There  are  briers  besetting  every  path, 

Which  call  for  patient  care ; 
There  is  a  cross  in  every  lot, 

And  an  earnest  need  for  prayer; 
But  a  lowly  heart  that  leans  on  thee 

Is  happy  anywhere." 

THERE  is  such  a  charm  in  novelty,  that  it  was 
some  weeks  before  Helen  realized  what  a 
great  change  had  befallen  her.  There  was  so 
much  to  do,  and  everything  was  left  to  her,  as 
Malcom  refused  to  hire  anything  done  that  Helen 
could  possibly  accomplish.  There  were  carpets  to 
put  down,  furniture  to  arrange,  and  closets  to  clean 
and  put  in  order.  Then  Malcom's  clothes  were 
sadly  out  of  order ;  there  were  stockings  to  darn, 
and  buttons  to  sew  on.  How  thankful  Helen 
now  was  for  the  sewing  hours  at  the  cottage,  which 
she  at  first  used  to  consider  such  a  hardship.  And 
as  she  sat  sewing,  she  often  thought  with  regret 

26  *  u  305 


306  HEI^EN    3VT AOGHtEGOR ;    OR., 

of  the  cheerful  little  study  and  its  pleasant  in 
mates,  of  the  bright  garden  beyond,  and  the 
waving  trees.  Here  she  looked  out  on  a  narrow 
street,  the  high  brick  walls  opposite  nearly  shut 
ting  out  the  little  glimpse  of  blue  sky.  And  then 
the  little,  little  yard,  no  garden  here.  She  had, 
however,  already  planted  in  its  tiny  flower  bed  the 
seeds  which  she  had  brought  from  Oakdale ;  and 
one  scarlet  geranium  in  bloom  stood  on  the  win 
dow  ledge  near  which  she  sat ;  and  ever  and  anon 
she  bent  over  it  with  a  smile,  for  it  wafted  her 
back  to  the  bright  spot  from  whence  it  had  been 
taken  and  where  its  companions  still  bloomed  in 
blushing  beauty.  Sadness  was  foreign  to  the 
nature  of  Helen  MacGregor ;  and  soon  the  dark 
house  rang  with  her  merry  song,  as  full  of  glee  as 
when  it  echoed  through  the  stately  halls  of  Oak- 
dale.  To  be  sure,  she  had  her  hours  of  loneliness 
and  home-sickness ;  but  one  unfailing  fountain  of 
comfort  ever  remained/  At  such  times  she  took 
her  Bible,  and  read  and  thought,  until  life's 
troubles  were  banished  by  sweet  communion  with 
her  Saviour.  No  matter  what  she  felt,  she  ever 
strove  to  have  her  happiest  smiles  and  most  cheer 
ful  words  ready  for  Malcom  when  he  came  home. 


CO^TQXTEST    vV>TD    SACRIFICE.  307 


She  led  a  very  quiet  life.  Malcom  went  away  at 
half  past  six  in  the  morning,  and  took  his  dinner 
with  him,  as  it  was  too  far  for  him  to  return  at 
noon,  and  he  did  not  get  back  until  six  in  the 
evening.  After  doing  up  the  household  work, 
Helen  usually  sewed  and  read  in  the  morning,  and 
took  a  walk  in  the  afternoon.  She  knew  no  one, 
and  these  solitary  walks  were  her  only  amusement. 
She  enjoyed  them  very  much.  At  first  she  had 
only  gone  short  distances  for  fear  of  losing  her 
way,  but  gradually  she  went  farther  and  farther, 
until  some  evenings  she  had  almost  to  run  in  order 
to  reach  home  in  time  to  get  Maloom's  supper,  as 
he  always  insisted  on  having  it  ready  as  soon  as  he 
came  in.  Helen's  great  delight  in  these  walks 
was  to  look  in  the  store  windows.  Of  this  she 
thought  she  would  never  tire.  Brought  up  in  the 
country  all  her  life,  it  was  almost  enchantment  to 
her  to  see  the  long  rows  of  splendid  windows  with 
all  their  glittering  treasures.  One  afternoon  she 
had  been  lost  in  admiration  in  front  of  a  picture 
store,  where  the  exquisite  engravings  and  colored 
prints  had  quite  made  her  forget  how  time  was 
going,  until  a  clock  in  the  neighborhood  warned 
her  she  should  be  at  home.  She  hurried  back 


308  HELEN    M-A-CGKREOOR ;    OR, 

through  the  crowded  streets,  scarcely  conscious  of 
the  jostling  she  received,  for  her  mind  still  lingered 
amidst  the  lovely  Italian  scenes  she  had  been  look 
ing  at. 

"  Half  past  five !"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  threw 
open  the  shutters  of  the  room  that  served  them  for 
parlor,  dining-room,  and  kitchen ;  'f  now  I  must 
hurry." 

She  put  on  the  coffee,  and  turning  round,  she 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  joy ;  there  lay  a  letter 
on  the  floor,  and  from  Nora  too,  she  knew  the 
hand-writing.  The  postman  finding  no  one  at 
home,  had  slipped  it  under  the  door.  Helen 
kissed  it,  and  said  with  a  resigned  air, 

"I  must  not  read  it  now,  I  must  get  supper 
first." 

She  bustled  about,  cut  the  bread,  put  the  meat 
on  to  fry,  for  as  Malcom  did  not  come  home  to 
dinner,  he  always  wanted  a  hot  supper.  But  the 
more  Helen  hurried,  the  more  it  seemed  to  put 
her  back,  and  at  length  stopping  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  she  burst  into  a  merry  laugh.  "  Well, 
I  won't  hurry  any  more,"  she  said,  "  I  went  and 
brought  the  butter  out  of  the  cellar, 'and  put  it  into 
the  closet,  instead  of  on  the  table.  What  is  the 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  309 

difference,  whether  I  read  my  letter  now,  or  after 
supper?  I  can  be  anticipating  the  pleasure  all 
through  supper  time,  and  thus  get  twice  as  much 
enjoyment  out  of  it." 

Just  then  some  one  knocked,  and  Helen  opened 
the  door.  Two  ragged  little  children  stood  there. 

"Will  you  please  give  me  a  piece  of  bread, 
ma'am  ?"  asked  the  oldest  girl. 

"Poor  children,"  said  Helen  compassionately, 
as  she  glanced  at  their  bare  feet  and  ragged  clothes, 
"  Come  in  and  I  will  get  you  something.  Can 
not  your  father  and  mother  get  bread  for  you  ?" 
she  continued,  as  she  commenced  spreading  each 
one  a  large  slice  of  bread. 

"Father's  dead,"  answered  the  girl,  "and 
mother's  got  six  children,  and  she  can't  get  no 
work." 

"  Poor  children  !     Why,  how  do  you  live  ?" 

"  We  mostly  starves,  when  we  can't  get  nothing 
to  eat,"  answered  the  girl; 

"  How  dreadful,"  said  Helen,  "  I  will  get  you 
some  meat." 

Helen  had  only  intended  giving  the  bread,-  but 
this  tale  of  destitution  awoke  all  her  generous 
nature.  She  would  give  them  all  she  could,  she 


310  HELEN"   nVEACa-REGKXR,  ;    OR,, 


thought,  and  ask  them  where  they  lived,  and  per 
haps  she  could  find  them  out  and  help  them  occa 
sionally.  Helen  ran  down  into  the  cellar  to  get 
the  meat.  "  Oh,  dear,"  she  sighed,  as  she  glanced 
at  the  almost  empty  safe,  "  it  is  so  little,  it  won't 
go  far  for  six  hungry  children  and  their  mother. 
If  I  were  at  Oakdale  now,  what  a  plentiful  sup 
per  they  could  get,  there  is  so  much  wasted  there  ; 
but  I  must  do  the  best  I  can." 

She  ran  up  stairs  with  the  cold  meat,  but  the 
children  had  disappeared.  She  looked  out  of  the 
open  door,  they  were  not  in  sight,  but  at  that  mo 
ment  Malcom  stepped  up,  and  Helen  turned 
quickly  to  the  half  finished  supper. 

"  Looking  for  me  ?"  asked  Malcom  gruffly. 

"  No,"  said  Helen. 

"Well,  what's  the  matter  then,  supper  not 
ready,  and  you  standing  staring  round  ?" 

"Oh,  what  shall  I  do?"  said  Helen,  "they've 
taken  that  large  loaf  of  bread,  and  we  have  not 
enough  left  for  supper." 

"  They  !     Who  ?"  asked  Malcom. 

"•Two  little  beggar  children  ;  I  went  down  into 
the  cellar  to  get  them  some  meat,  and  when  I 
came  up  they  were  gone." 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  311 

"And  you  brought  them  in  here  and  left 
them,"  said  Malcom,  leaning  back  in  his  chair 
and  giving  a  loud  laugh ;  "  well,  Helen,  you  are  a 
green  one.  I  dare  say  they  have  taken  something 
else." 

Helen  colored  deeply  with  mortification ;  and, 
she  could  scarcely  keep  from  feeling  angry  at  her 
brother's  rude  manner;  but  the  Christian  may 
seek  help  at  all  times;  and  even  a  sigh  for  strength 
to  overcome,  for  Christ's  sake,  reaches  the  divine 
ear.  Helen  soon  recovered  her  spirits  and  joined 
in  the  laugh.  But  Malcom  laughed  no  more. 

"Remember,  Helen,"  he  said  sternly,  "I'll 
have  no  more  feeding  beggars,  whether  they're 
honest  or  not.  I  have  enough  to  do  to  provide  for 
my  own  wants,  without  supporting  all  the  vaga 
bond  children  in  New  York.  Mind,  not  another 
piece  of  bread  do  you  give  away ;  it  will  take  me 
long  enough  to  get  rich  as  it  is,  and  that  is  all  I'm 
living  for." 

Helen  was  greatly  shocked  to  hear  this,  and  she 
thought  she  would  read  that  very  evening  the 
parable  of  the  rich  man ;  for  Helen  always  would 
read  aloud  a  chapter  in  the  Bible  every  evening, 
notwithstanding  Malcom's  objection.  Sometimes 


312  HELEN    M^CGKREGOR;    OR, 

he  left  the  room,  but  he  generally  sat  in  sullen 
silence,  and  she  could  not  tell  whether  he  listened 
or  not.  But  that,  and  praying  for  him,  were  the 
only  things  she  could  do,  since  whenever  she  might 
make  a  remark  which  he  did  not  wish  to  hear,  he 
would  cut  it  short  with  the  irreverent  exclama 
tion,  "  None  of  your  preaching,  girl,  or  I'm  off," 
and  Helen,  rather  than  send  him  out  to  roam 
about  the  streets)  would  keep  quiet.  So  she  said 
nothing,  but  having  gone  after  bread,  they  sat 
down  to  supper. 

"  Oh,  the  spoons  !"  said  Helen  in  dismay. 

Yes,  the  two  silver  spoons  were  gone,  and  the 
only  silver  ones  they  had.  Helen  could  hardly 
keep  back  the  tears.  Those  two  spoons  had  be 
longed  to  Miriam  Ashton,  and  Mrs.  Neville  had 
given  them  to  Helen  as  a  keepsake ;  and  she  had 
never  looked  at  them  without  remembering  the 
lovely  Christian  woman,  who  slept  beneath  the 
broad  Atlantic.  Then  too  those  spoons  had  been 
to  Scotland,  and  had  crossed  the  Atlantic  with 
Helen.  No  wonder  that  she  almost  cried. 

"  I  would  rather  they  had  taken  anything  else," 
she  said. 

"Don't  be  simple,  Helen,"  said   her  brother, 


CONQUEST    A.ND    SA.CRIIPICE.  313 

"they're  gone  now,  and  'there's  no  use  crying  over 
spilt  milk.'     Do  give  me  some  tea. 

Helen  got  out  the  pewter  spoons,  and  supper 
eJlded  in  silence.  She  had  quite  forgotten  her 
letter  in  the  mishaps  of  supper  time ;  but  it  now 
brought  back  the  smiles  to  her  face,  and  chased 
away  every  gloomy  feeling,  as  she  eagerly  broke  it 
open  and  read, 

"  DEAR  HELEN, — I  could  not  tell  you  how  glad  I  was  to  re- 
ce.ive  your  long  letter.  Mother  and  Barbara  both  laughed  at  me 
because  I  kissed  it  so  often ;  but  I  always  said  in  answer,  that 
•your  dear  fingers  had  folded  it,  and  that  it  had  lived  with  you  a 
while,  all  unconscious  of  its  happy  privilege.  First  I  read  it 
aloud  to  our  folks,  and  just  as  I  had  finished  it,  Mr.  Nelson  came 
in,  and  he  seemed  so  delighted  to  hear  from  you,  that  I  read  it  to 
him.  Do  excuse  me,  dear,  I  will  keep  the  next  more  private ; 
but  you  know  this  was  the  first,  and  we  all  felt  so  interested, 
especially  Mr.  Nelson.  He  comes  to  our  house  almost  every  day ; 
but  although  he  never  mentions  your  name,  mother  says  he  just 
comes  to  hear  us  talk  about  you,  which  I  do  nearly  all  the  time. 
Mother  thinks  him  very  much  changed.  She  was  so  surprised 
the  other  day,  when  they  were  talking  together,  to  hear  him  say, 
'  I  agree  with  you  Mrs.  Neville,  there  is  no  book  in  the  world 
like  the  Bible.' " 

When  Helen  read  that  sentence,  she  bent  her 
head  on  her  hand,  and  a  prayer  of  thanksgiving 
rose  to  God,  as  she  thought  that  through  his  great 

27 


314  HKLEKT   MACGKREOOR,;    OR, 

mercy  her  little  Bible  might  yet  win  her  adopted 
father  to  the  blessed  Saviour.     Helen  read  on : 

"  I  suppose  you  would  like  to  hear  something  about  our  little 
school.  It  is  very  small  indeed  now ;  such  a  falling  off,  both  of 
teachers  and  scholars ;  first  Mary  Rellim,  then  Laura,  then  you. 
Now  I  am  the  only  teacher,  and  I  have  but  three  scholars,  for 
Aleck  has  a  situation  as  errand  boy  in  Mr.  Thompson's  store,  and 
lives  with  him.  Susie  still  comes,  although  it  is  a  long  way  from 
Oakdale,  for  as  you  expected,  Mr.  Nelson  asked  her  to  stay  there ; 
he  also  told  Lucy  the  cottage  was  hers  for  another  year.  Wasn't 
he  kind  ?  Lucy  gets  along  nicely  now,  having  only  two  to  pro 
vide  for ;  but  she  says  it  is  very  lonely  without  Laura  and  Susie 
at  night  after  the  little  ones  are  in  bed.  She  misses  you  very 
much,  and  sends  a  great  deal  of  love.  But  I  must  tell  you  about 
my  scholars.  There  is  Tommy  still:  and  the  baby  is  beginning 
his  letters,  he  knows  0,  and  A ;  so  you  see  my  school  is  quite 
flourishing.  But,  oh,  dear  Helen,  how  I  do  miss  you.  Instead 
of  getting  used  to  it,  it  seems  to  me  that  every  time  I  walk  to 
wards  Lucy's  cottage,  I  feel  our  separation  more  than  ever.  And 
indeed  sometimes  it  is  quite  a  task  for  me  to  go  there ;  and  then 
that  worries  me,  for  I  get  thinking  that  after  all,  perhaps  when  I 
was  teaching  before,  I  did  it  only  because  you  taught,  and  I 
wanted  to  help  you,  instead  of  trying  to  please  the  dear  Saviour. 
I  am  always  so  easily  led  away.  I  was  so  sorry  to  hear  you  had 
no  garden,  that  is,  none  in  New  York ;  you  have  one  here  still, 
and  I  weed  it  regularly  and  water  the  flowers.  The  little  rose 
bud  I  enclose,  is  from  your  favorite  bush." 

Helen  smiled.  Nora  had  forgotten  to  enclose 
it. 


CONQUEST    ATSTD    SACR.IITICK.  315 

"  Everything  looks  lovely,  but  would  seem  lovelier  still  if  you 
were  here.  I  have  not  been  at  Oakdale  since  you  left;  I  am 
waiting  until  you  come  back ;  for  I  have  the  bump  of  hope  so 
largely  developed,  I  am  certain  you  will  be  back  some  day,  as 
little  Tom  says,  '  for  good.'  Barbara  sends  her  love,  and  says  you 
must  write  to  her  next.  Mother  says  she  cannot  send  hers,  it  will 
make  the  letter  too  heavy,  after  mine  is  in. 

"Do  excuse  this  letter;  you  know  of  old  that  I  do  not  inherit 
any  genius  for  writing.  Do  let  us  hear  from  you  soon,  and 
write  everything  that  happens. 

"  I  remain  your  loving 

"NORA." 

Helen  read  the  precious  letter  many  times  that 
evening  and  for  days  after.  It  was  the  first  letter 
from  Brookfield,  and  it  seemed  a  connecting  link 
binding  her  to  the  happy  past.  Those  loving, 
comforting  letters  cheered  her  on  many  a  dark 
day  through  the  long  winter.  And  regularly  every 
Monday  morning  they  came,  "  white  winged  mes 
sengers  of  hope  and  love."  Sometimes  in  Bar 
bara's  grave  style,  but  oftener  in  Nora's  rambling, 
warm  effusions,  or  Mrs.  Neville's  kind,  motherly 
words  with  their  wise  counsel.  For,  although  so' 
far  away,  Helen  still  went  for  advice  to  Mrs. 
Neville.  Blessed  are  such  Christian  women! 
Verily  they  shall  not  lose  their  reward. 


XXIII. 

JETAPFY 


"To  sojourn  in  the  world,  and  yet  apart; 

To  dwell  with  God,  yet  still  with  man  to  feel  ; 
To  bear  about  forever  in  the  heart 
The  gladness  which  his  Spirit  doth  reveal." 

TWO  years  had  passed  over  Helen's  head  ;  two 
years  of  quiet  duty.  She  worked  and  sang 
and  sewed  and  wrote  letters,  and  one  day  passed 
much  like  another.  She  had  spent  the  time  in  no 
vain  repinings,  but  in  contented  submission  to 
God's  will  ;  and  bright,  sunny  spots  had  checkered 
her  shady  path.  Brightest  of  these  was  Mr.  Nel 
son's  first  visit,  about  a  year  after  she  left  Oakdale. 
Helen  was  very  glad  to  see  him,  but  that  joy  was 
swallowed  up  in  the  still  greater  one  of  hearing 
him  say, 

"Helen,  my  daughter,  we  have  one  faith,  one 
hope  now.  I  too  have  found  your  Saviour." 

Helen's   heart  overflowed   in   that  hour  with 

316 


CONQUEST    -A.TCD    SA-CRIFICE.  317 

gratitude  to  the  all  merciful  Father.  She  scarcely 
heeded  the  following  words, 

"  And  I  owe  it  all  to  you.  Had  you  faltered 
or  wavered,  had  you  yielded  to  my  persuasions, 
and  left  your  duty  unfulfilled,  all  my  old  preju 
dices  and  skepticisms,  which  were  beginning  to 
waver,  would  have  regained  their  former  force. 
But  you  stood  firm,  my  daughter,  thanks  be  to 
God ;  and  who  could  help  believing  in  a  religion 
which  gave  such  steady  principle  to  one  so  young  ? 
I  determined  to  doubt  no  longer.  The  old  house 
seemed  desolate  without  you ;  but  it  was  best  so. 
Had  you  still  remained,  I  might  never  have 
listened  to  the  strivings  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  nor 
gone  to  Jesus  for  forgiveness." 

After  this  first  visit,  Mr.  Nelson  had  come  often 
to  New  York ;  and  Helen  had  learned  to  expect  him. 

But  the  proverb  says,  "  it  is  a  long  lane  which 
has  no  turning,"  and  on  this  particular  morn 
ing,  everything  in  the  house  seemed  turned  up- 

tf 

side  down.  Helen,  with  her  head  tied  up,  was 
industriously  sweeping ;  but  notwithstanding  this 
busy  occupation,  snatches  of  song  were  constantly 
bursting  from  her  lips ;  and  those  lips  that  morn 
ing  could  certainly  do  nothing  but  smile.  A  rest- 

27  * 


318  HELEN    IVU^COOREGOR, ;    OH, 

less  joyousness  seemed  to  pervade  her  whole  being ; 
if  she  only  moved  a  chair,  she  did  it  with  an 
extra  flourish  of  glee.  Altogether  work  seemed 
more  like  play  than  labor.  At  length  the  room 
was  finished  to  her  satisfaction ;  and  running  out 
into  the  yard,  she  gathered  all  the  flowers  her 
garden  contained,  which  made  quite  a  respectable 
bouquet ;  these  she  put  into  a  tumbler  on  the  man 
telpiece.  Helen  looked  around  her  with  pleasure; 
everything  was  clean,  and  as  tasteful  as  it  could  be 
made.  The  room  appeared  just  as  it  had  before 
excepting  that  new  white  curtains  had  been  hung 
at  the  windows,  which  gave  it  a  light,  airy  ap 
pearance.  The  back  shutters  were  open,  and 
through  the  muslin  curtains,  parted  and  tied  back 
with  ribbon,  could  be  seen  a  morning-glory  which 
Helen  had  taught  to  climb  over  the  window ;  and 
this  she  always  looked  at,  to  remind  her  of  the 
country.  She  refused  to  look  beyond,  at  the  little 
brick  yard,  bounded  by  its  board  fence,  but  let  her 
eye  always  stop  at  the  pretty  trailing  vine  of  bright 
green. 

Now  glancing  at  the  clock,  she  ran  hastily  up 
stairs,  and  soon  returned,  dressed  in  one  of  her 
favorite  white  muslins,  which  she  had  scarcely 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  319 

worn  since  she  left  Oakdale.  Then  carefully  pin 
ning  up  her  sleeves,  and  skirt,  and  putting  on  an 
apron,  she  began  to  get  dinner.  Here  there  was  a 
decided  improvement;  new  dishes  and  silver 
spoons.  Then  too,  the  savory  roast,  the  variety 
of  vegetables  and  the  desserts  did  not  look  much 
like  the  meal  that  ordinarily  graced  the  table  of 
Malcom  MacGregor. 

Helen  had  everything  ready  just  as  a  carriage 
drove  up  to  the  door,  and  Malcom  and  his  bride 
alighted.  She  welcomed  them  warmly;  and 
chided  herself  for  not  liking  the  face  of  her 
brother's  wife.  But  then,  she  could  not  help 
thinking  of  what  Malcom  had  told  her  a  few 
months  before,  "  she  was  quite  rich,  and  that  was 
all  he  cared  for."  Helen  had  talked  and  argued  in 
vain ;  Malcom  was  determined  to  be  rich  at  any 
cost,  even,'  as  Helen  feared,  at  the  expense  of  his 
happiness.  In  one  particular  only,  as  far  as  she 
knew,  did  they  agree ;  Malcom's  wife  was  as  par 
simonious  as  himself.  It  was  she  who  had  pro 
posed  living  in  the  same  house,  and  foregoing 
much  extra  expense  that  they  might  save  more. 

But  the  home-coming  of  a  pair  so  uncongenial 
certainly  did  not  give  that  light  to  Helen  Mac- 


320  HELEN"   3VI  A.C&R-E&OR-  ;    OR,, 


Gregor's  eye,  nor  that  flush  of  joy  to  her  cheek. 
Ah,  no  ;  sad  indeed  would  have  been  her  lot,  if 
forced  to  live  in  that  house,  whose  inmates  were 
4estined  to  a  life  of  discord.  Her  brother's  mar 
riage  had  released  her.  He  had  told  her  he  would 
need  her  no  longer,  and  Helen  forgot  the  ingrati 
tude  of  the  remark  in  the  joy  of  her  new  freedom. 
She  wrote  at  once  to  Mrs.  Neville,  asking  for  her 
old  place  in  the  cottage  for  a  short  time,  until  she 
could  get  a  school.  She  received  an  answer  in  the 
person  of  Mr.  Nelson,  indignant  at  the  idea. 
Oakdale,  he  declared,  was  and  always  should  be 
her  home.  And  if  she  would  not  submit,  he 
would  use  his  parental  authority.  That  afternoon 
she  was  going  to  Brookfield.  No  wonder  then 
she  felt  as  if  she  were  treading  on  air. 

The  dinner  dishes  were  all  put  away,  and  Helen 
had  just  come  down  stairs,  in  her  travelling  dress 
and  bonnet,  when  the  carriage  drove  up  to  the 
door  and  Mr.  Nelson  arrived.  Her  trunk  was 
carried  out,  the  short  farewells  were  said,  and 
Helen  had  left  behind  her  the  gloomy  house  which 
would  long  miss  her  cheery  presence. 

After  that  Helen  seldom  saw  Malcom  or  his 
wife.  They  refused  to  visit  Oakdale  ;  and  when 


CONQUEST    AND    SACRIFICE.  321 

Helen  stopped  there  for  a  day  or  two,  once,  when 
she  was  in  New  York,  her  brother's  wife  made 
her  feel  that  she  was  not  welcome.  But  Malcom 
received  her  very  kindly;  and  Helen's  heart 
yearned  over  her  brother,  who,  she  saw  too  plainly, 
had  wrecked  his  happiness  in  this  world,  and  re-  * 
fused  the  only  consolation  left  him,  the  hope  of  a 
better  life  hereafter.  Yes,  scarcely  a  day  passed, 
but  Malcom  became  more  and  more  conscious  of 
the  treasure  he  had  lost  in  Helen.  But  he  had 
his  wish ;  he  became  rich ;  and  he  lived  bitterly 
to  confess  that  riches  are  powerless  to  confer  hap 
piness. 

Steam  cars  travel  fast,  but  that  afternoon  they 
could  not  travel  fast  enough  for  Helen's  eager 
wishes.  When  they  reached  the  depot,  Mr.  Nel 
son's  carriage  was  waiting  for  them.  Helen  shook 
hands  with  Thomas,  and  almost  felt  like  kissing 
the  well  remembered  grey  horses.  As  they  drove 
through  Brookficld,  her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears 
of  thankful  joy;  every  dear  remembered  spot 
brought  back  its  tender  recollections. 

There  was  the  little  wood,  in  which  she  had 
been  so  happy  and  so  sad.  There  was  Lucy's  poor 
cottage,  and  Mrs.  Rellim's  handsome  house.  But 


322  HELEN    MA-CGHREGOR;    OR, 

there,  hid  amidst  the  trees  and  vines,  was  Mrs. 
Neville's  cottage ;  and  yes,  surely  it  was,  Barbara 
and  Nora  waiting  at  the  gate.  The  carriage 
stopped ;  and  Helen  was  clasped  in  so  many  loving 
arms,  she  was  fairly  carried  into  the  house.  Nora 
was  almost  beside  herself  with  joy.  She  and 
Helen  ran  all  over  the  house.  Helen  sat  down  in 
her  old  place  in  the  study,  and  threw  herself  on 
her  own  little  bed,  just  to  try  it  once  more,  she 
said  laughing.  Nora  lay  down  beside  her,  and 
throwing  her  arms  around  her  exclaimed, 

"  Oh,  Helen,  I  wish  we  could  keep  you  here. 
I  have  missed  you  so  much." 

"Not  more  than  I  have  you,  Nora  darling," 
said  Helen,  returning  the  embrace,  "  and  remem 
ber,  we  must  make  some  plan  to  see  each  other 
daily,  since  we  have  no  little  school  now." 

"  I  wish  we  had,  so  that  we  would  be  sure  to 
meet ;  for  it  will  not  be  so  easy  for  me  to  go  out 
now;  since  Barbara  has  commenced  to  teach  I 
have  a  great  deal  more  to  do." 

"And  how  does  Lucy  like  her  new  home?" 
asked  Helen. 

"  Very  much.  She  sews  all  day,  and  secures  a 
home  for  herself  and  little  Will,  the  baby,  as  we 


CONQUEST    A.NT)    SACRIFICE.  323 

used  to  call  him ;  but  he  deserves  the  name  no 
longer.  Then  besides,  she  earns  some  money.  I 
forget  how  much." 

"We  must  go  down  now,"  said  Helen  sud 
denly,  getting  up,  "they  will  think  us  very 
selfish." 

"  Let  me  tell  you,  Helen  dear,  before  you  go 
down,"  said  Nora,  in  a  low  tone,  "  how  much  I 
sympathized  in  your  deep  joy,  when  your  adopted 
father  found  the  dear  Saviour.  I  could  not  write 
it," 

Helen's  only  answer  was  a  fond  embrace,  as  the 
tears  stood  in  her  eyes. 

"  And  Mary  Rellim  ?"  she  asked,  as  they  went 
down  stairs,  "  where  is  she  ?" 

"Oh,  she  is  home  now;  she  has  finished  her 
education.  We  were  talking  about  you  last 
evening,  and  planning  over  what  nice  times  we 
will  all  have  together  next  winter,  if  nothing  hap 
pens." 

When  they  went  down  they  found  supper  ready 
and  Mr.  Nelson  patiently  waiting.  But  all  in 
ducements  could  not  prevail  on  Mr.  Nelson  to 
stay  to  supper,  as  their  own  supper  would  be  wait 
ing  at  home ;  and  Helen,  only  taking  a  few  straw- 


324  HELE1ST    MACGKREOOR;    OR, 

berries,  because  Nora  said  she  had  picked  them 
out  of  her  own  garden  for  her,  jumped  into  the 
carriage  once  more,  promising  to  come  round  early 
the  next  morning. 

The  sun  was  just  setting  as  the  carriage  rolled 
into  Oakdale,  and  never  had  it  looked  more  lovely. 
The  warm,  red  light  gave  a  mellow  tint  to  the 
house;  and  the  tall  trees  bent  over  in  stately 
magnificence,  as  if  guarding  the  spot.  Flowers 
bloomed  on  every  side ;  and  Helen's  head  bowed 
in  gratitude  to  God  for  a  home  so  beautiful ;  and 
an  earnest  prayer  went  up  that  she  might  never  be 
led  astray  by  worldly  amusements. 

The  servants  were  collected  to  welcome  back  the 
young  girl  whom  they  had  all  liked,  and  who  was 
now  to  take  her  place  as  the  head  of  the  house 
hold.  Susie  was  there,  with  her  pretty  face  and 
dainty  ways,  and  strove  to  show  the  others  that 
she  had  the  best  right  to  Miss  Helen. 

Helen  looked  around  her  own  room,  and  thought 
it  was  lovelier  than  ever,  from  contrast  with  the 
dingy  little  attic  she  had  slept  in  last.  She  threw 
open  the  window  and  enjoyed  the  broad,  beautiful 
landscape,  and  smiled  to  think  how  much  more 
of  the  sky  she  could  see  here,  than  in  her  city 


CONQUEST    A3STD    SACRIFICE.  325 

home.  Then  dismissing  Susie,  she  knelt  down  to 
give  thanks  for  her  safe  return  and  for  all  God's 
manifold  blessings. 

That  was  a  happy  evening ;  old  times  seemed  to 
live  once  more.  Helen  returned  to  the  long  ne 
glected  harp,  and  memories  of  "  Auld  Lang  Syne" 
moistened  her  eyes,  as  the  familiar  songs  woke  the 
quiet  air.  They  had  the  same  old  evenings, — no, 
not  the  same ;  for  now  Mr.  Nelson  read  in  the 
Bible,  and  Helen  listened ;  and  for  the  first  time 
she  heard  him  lead  in  prayer  at  family  worship. 
All  the  servants  were  gathered  together,  and  as  a 
united  family  the  petitions  went  up  to  the  throne 
of  grace. 

That  had  been  Mr.  Nelson's  greatest  trial. 
Known  so  long  to  his  own  servants,  as  well  as  to 
the  world,  as  a  sneering  unbeliever,  how  could  he 
summon  them  to  a  religious  service  which  he 
should  conduct.  But  God  giveth  strength.  Some 
of  the  old  servants,  who  were  Christians,  rejoiced 
at  the  change,  and  welcomed  that  first  effort  with 
thankfulness.  But  some  sneered  and  laughed, 
until  they  found  there  was  a  reality  in  their  mas 
ter's  religion. 

28 


XXIV 
CONCLUSION: 

"  'Tis  the  quiet  hour  of  feeling, 

Now  the  busy  day  is  past, 
And  the  twilight  shadows  stealing, 
O'er  the  world  their  mantle  cast." 

twilight  of  a  March  day  was  casting  its 
J-  lengthening  shadows  over  life's  busy  hours, 
and  calling  on  each  weary  one  to  hasten  home  to 
the  genial  fireside.  The  curtains  were  not  yet 
drawn  in  the  cottage  parlor,  but  the  mellow  tints 
of  coming  eve  mingled  with  the  cheerful  fire 
light. 

Mrs.  Neville  was  in  the  kitchen  preparing  sup 
per,  and  Helen,  Barbara  and  Nora,  were  gathered 
around  the  fire.  Silence  had  settled  on  the  little 
group  as  the  shadows  deepened,  and  each  one 
seemed  lost  in  thought.  At  length  Helen,  putting 
her  arm  around  Nora,  said  playfully, 

"  And  what  has  become  of  Nora's  merry  tongue 
this  evening  ?" 

326 


CONQUEST    yVND    SACRIITICE.  327 


"  Ah,"  said  Nora  with  a  little  laugh,  "  I  was 
disobeying  you  and  thinking  of  next  month." 

"  Well,  I  dare  say  we  were  all  thinking  of  the 
same  thing,"  said  Barbara,  "I  cannot  realize, 
Helen,  that  next  month  you  start  for  Scotland." 

"Scotland!  Dear  Scotland,  shall  I  indeed 
tread  your  loved  shore  once  more,  and  climb  again 
your  beautiful  Highlands  ?  I  shall  once  again  be 
a  Scotch  lassie  and  forget  that  years  have  rolled 
by  since  I  hunted  the  heath  flower,  or  listened  for 
the  fairies'  footsteps." 

"  Ah,  but  you  will  be  glad  to  come  back,  dear 
sister,  will  you  not?"  asked  Nora  with  a  little 
jealousy. 

"  Yes,  very  glad,  I  think.  Here  I  leave  warm, 
true  hearts.  Here  I  found  a  home,  a  father,  a 
mother,  and  two  dear  sisters;  and  best  of  all,  here 
I  found  a  Saviour,  and  a  life  eternal.  There  none 
will  know  me  j  I  shall  return  to  my  childhood's 
home,  but  it  will  be  desolate,  or  worse  still,  per 
haps,  trodden  by  a  stranger's  foot.  Yes,  I  shall 

be  glad  to  go,  but  glad,  very  glad  to  come  back." 

• 

We  will  not  follow  Mr.  Nelson  and  Helen  to 
Scotland,  nor  mingle  in  the  joy  of  their  return. 


328  HELEN 

Here  we  bid  farewell  to  the  cottage  and  its  in 
mates  ;  to  the  stately  halls  of  Oakdale,  its  grave 
master  and  happy  young  mistress.  Twilight  is 
gathering  over  the  scene,  and  night  will  soon  hide 
them  from  our  view.  After  cares  and  trials  await 
them  all,  but  we  leave  them  now,  happy  and  con 
tented  ;  knowing  well  that  they  are  treading  the 
narrow  path;  that  on  each  brow  is  set  the  Sa 
viour's  signet ;  and  that  no  matter  what  may  hap 
pen,  they  believe  the  divine  words, 

"  Him  that  overcometh  will  I  make  a  pillar  in 
the  temple  of  my  God,  and  he  shall  go  no  more 
out." 


THE   END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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from  which  it  was  borrowed.  


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Donald  LaChance 
Rare  &  Choice  Books 
C  amb  ri  a,  C  ali  forni  a 
93428 


